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THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 





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“He saw the Princess for the first time that after- 
noon” (p- 25) 


THE MAM FROM 
BROume* S 


BY 

GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON 


Author of “Graustark” 
“Beverly of Graustark’’ 
etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY HARRISON FISHER 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 

1909 


Copyright, 1908 
By Dodd, Mead & Company 

Published September, 1908 

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Printed in America 

V 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

I 

The Late Mr. Skaggs 

1 

II 

An Extraordinary Document 

10 

III 

Introducing Hollingsworth Chase 

19 

IV 

The Indiscreet Mr. Chase 

30 

V 

The English Invade 

40 

VI 

The Chateau 

50 

VII 

The Brownes Arrive 

61 

VIII 

The Man from Brodney’s 

73 

IX 

The Enemy 

81 

X 

The American Bar 

90 

XI 

The Slough of Tranquillity 

102 

XII 

Women and Women 

110 

XIII 

Chase Performs a Miracle 

120 

XIV 

The Lantern Above 

132 

XV 

Mr. Saunders Has a Plan 

141 

XVI 

Two Calls from the Enemy 

153 

XVII 

The Princess Goes Galloping 

163 

XVIII 

The Burning of the Bungalow 

175 

XIX 

Chase Comes from the Clouds 

185 

XX 

Neenah 

195 

XXI 

The Plague is Announced 

204 

XXII 

The Charity Ball 

216 

XXIII 

The Joy of Temptation 

227 

XXIV 

Several Philosophers 

241 

XXV 

The Disquieting End of Pong 

251 

XXVI 

Deppingham Falls III 

259 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

XXVII 

The Trial of Von Blitz 

268 

XXVIII 

Centuries to Forget 

279 

XXIX 

The Pursuit 

288 

XXX 

The Persian Angel 

300 

XXXI 

A Prescribed Malady 

307 

XXXII 

The Two Worlds 

316 

XXXIII 

The Ships that Pass 

32-1 

XXXIV 

In the Same Grave with Skaggs 

332 

XXXV 

A Toast to the Past 

339 

XXXVI 

The Title Clear 

346 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


“He saw the Princess for the first time 

that afternoon” (p. 25) Frontispiece 

“ ‘Don’t you intend to present me to 

Lady Deppingham ?’ ” Facing page 66 

“ ‘No,’ she said to herself, ‘I told him 

I was keeping them for him’ ” “ “ 266 

“He felt that Genevra was still look- 

into his eyes” “ “ 338 



THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


CHAPTER I 

THE LATE MR. SKAGGS 

The death of Taswell Skaggs was stimulating, to say 
the least, inapplicable though the expression may 
seem. 

He attained the end of a hale old age by tumbling aim- 
lessly into the mouth of a crater on the island of Japat, 
somewhere in the mysterious South Seas. The volcano 
was not a large one and the crater, though somewhat 
threatening at times, was correspondingly minute, which 
explains — in apology — to some extent, his unfortunate 
misstep. 

Moreover, there is but one volcano on the surface of 
Japat ; it seems all the more unique that he, who had lived 
for thirty years or more on the island, should have 
stepped into it in broad daylight, especially as it was he 
who had tacked up warning placards along every avenue 
of approach. 

Inasmuch as he was more than eighty years old at the 
time, it would seem to have been a most reprehensible 
miscalculation on the part of the Grim Reaper to have 
gone to so much trouble. 

But that is neither here nor there. 

Taswell Skaggs was dead and once more remembered. 
The remark is proper, for the world had quite thor- 
oughly forgotten him during the twenty odd years im- 
mediately preceding his death. It was, however, notice- 
ably worth while to remember him at this particular 
time: he left a last will and testament that bade fair to 
distress as well as startle a great many people on both 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


sides of the Atlantic, among whom it may be well to in- 
clude certain distinguished members of the legal pro- 
fession. 

In Boston the law firm of Bowen & Hare was puzzling 
itself beyond reason in the effort to anticipate and cir- 
cumvent the plans of the firm of Bosworth, Newnes & 
Grapewin, London, E. C. ; while on the other side of the 
Atlantic Messrs. Bosworth, Newnes & Grapewin were 
blindly struggling to do precisely the same thing in rela- 
tion to Messrs. Bowen & Hare. 

Without seeking to further involve myself, I shall at 
once conduct the reader to the nearest of these law offices ; 
he may hear something to his own interest from Bowen 
& Hare. We find the partners sitting in the private room. 

“Pretty badly tangled, I declare,” said Mr. Hare, star- 
ing helplessly at his senior partner. 

“Hopelessly,” agreed Mr. Bowen, very much as if he 
had at first intended to groan. 

Before them on the table lay the contents of a bulky 
envelope: a long and stupendous letter from their Lon- 
don correspondents and with it a copy of Taswell 
Skaggs’s will. The letter had come in the morning’s 
mail, heralded by a rather vague cablegram the week 
before. To be brief, Mr. Bowen recently had been named 
as joint executor of the will, together with Sir John 
Allencrombie, of London, W. C., one time neighbour of 
the late Mr. Skaggs. A long and exasperating cable- 
gram had touched somewhat irresolutely upon the terms 
of the will, besides notifying him that one of the heirs 
resided in Boston. He was instructed to apprise this 
3'oung man of his good fortune. This he delayed in 
doing until after he had obtained more definite informa- 
tion from England. The full and complete statement 
of facts was now before him. 

There was one very important, perhaps imposing 


THE LATE MR. SKAGGS 


feature in connection with the old gentleman’s will: he 
was decidedly sound of mind and body when it was 
uttered. 

When such astute lawyers as Bowen & Hare give up 
to amazement, the usual forerunner of consternation, it 
is high time to regard the case as startling. Their 
practice was far-reaching and varied; imperviousness 
had been acquired through long years of restraint. 
But this day they were sharply ousted from habitual 
calmness into a state of mind bordering on the ludicrous. 

“Read it again, Bowen.” 

“The will?” 

“No; the letter.” 

Whereupon Mr. Bowen again read aloud the letter 
from Bosworth, Newnes & Grapewin, this time slowly and 
speculatively. 

“They seem as much upset by the situation as we,” 
he observed reflectively. 

“Extraordinary state of affairs, I must say.” 

“And I don’t know what to do about it — I don’t even 
know how to begin. They’re both married.” 

“And not to each other.” 

“She’s the wife of a Lord-knows-what-kind-of-a-lord, 
and he’s married to an uncommonly fine girl, they say, 
notwithstanding the fact that she has larger social 
aspirations than he has means.” 

“And if that all-important clause in the will is not 
carried out to the letter, the whole fortune goes to the 
bow-wows.” 

“Practically the same thing. He calls them ‘natives,’ 
that’s all. It looks to me as though the bow-wows will 
get the old man’s millions. I don’t see how anything 
short of Providence can alter the situation.” 

Mr. Bowen looked out over the house-tops and Mr. Hare 
laughed softly under his breath. 


4 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

“Thank heaven, Bowen, he names you as executor, not 
me.” 

“I shall decline to serve. It’s an impossible situation, 
Hare. In the first place, Skaggs was not an intimate 
friend of mine. I met him in Constantinople five years 
ago and afterward handled some business for him in New 
York. He had no right to impose upon me as if ” 

“But why should you hesitate? You have only to wait 
for the year to roll by and then turn your troubles over 
to the natives. Young Browne can’t marry Miss Ruth- 
ven inside of a year, simply because there is no Miss 
Ruthven. She’s Lady — Lady — what’s the name?” 

“Deppingham.” 

“And Browne already has one Mrs. Browne to his 
credit, don’t you see? Well, that settles it, I’d say. It’s 
hardly probable that Browne will murder or divorce his 
wife, nor is it likely that her ladyship would have the 
courage to dispose of her encumbrance in either way on 
such short notice.” 

“But it means millions to them, Hare.” 

“That’s their unfortunate lookout. You are to act 
as an executor, not as a matrimonial agent.” 

“But, man, it’s an outrage to give all of it to those 
wretched islanders. Bosworth says that rubies and sap- 
phires grow there like mushrooms.” 

“Bosworth also says that the islanders are thrifty, in- 
telligent and will fight for their rights. There are law- 
yers among them, he says, as well as jewel diggers and 
fishermen.” 

“Skaggs and Lady Deppingham’s grandfather were 
the only white men who ever lived there long enough 
to find out what the island had stored up for civilisation. 
That’s why they bought it outright, but I’m hanged if 
I can see why he wants to give it back to the natives.” 

“Perhaps he owes it to them. He doubtless bought it 


THE LATE MR. SKAGGS 


5 

for a song and, contrary to all human belief, he may 
have resurrected a conscience. Anyhow, there remains 
a chance for the heirs to break the will.” 

“It can’t be done, Hare, it can’t be done. It’s as clean 
an instrument as ever survived a man.” 

It is, by this time, safe for the reader to assume that 
Mr. Taswell Skaggs had been a rich man and therefore 
privileged to be eccentric. It is also time for the writer 
to turn the full light upon the tragic comedy which en- 
tertained but did not amuse a select audience of law- 
yers on both sides of the Atlantic. As this tale has to 
do with the adventures of Taswell Skaggs’s heirs and not 
with the strange old gentleman who sleeps his last sleep 
literally in the midst of the island of Japat, it is emi- 
nently wise to make as little as possible of him. 

Mr. Skaggs came of a sound old country family in 
upper England, but seems to have married a bit above 
his station. His wife was serving as governess in the 
home of a certain earl when Taswell won her heart and 
dragged her from the exalted position of minding other 
people’s children into the less conspicuous one of caring 
for her own. How the uncouth country youth — not 
even a squire — overcame her natural prejudice against 
the lower classes is not for me to explain. Sufficient to 
announce, they were married and lived unhappily ever 
afterward. 

Their only son was killed by a runaway horse when he 
was twenty, and their daughter became the wife of an 
American named Browne when she was scarcely out of 
her teens. It was then that Mr. Skaggs, practically 
childless, determined to make himself wifeless as well. 

He magnanimously deeded the unentailed farm to his 
wife, turned his securities into cash and then set forth 
upon a voyage of exploration. It is common history 
that upon one dark, still night in December he said 


6 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


good-bye forever to the farm and its mistress; but it 
is doubtful if either of them heard him. 

To be 44 jolly well even” with him, Mrs. Skaggs did a 
most priggish thing. She died six months later. But, 
before doing so, she made a will in which she left the 
entire estate to her daughter, effectually depriving the 
absent husband of any chance to reclaim his own. 

Taswell Skaggs was in Shanghai when he heard the 
news. It was on a Friday. His informant was that erst- 
while friend, Jack Wyckholme. Naturally, Skaggs felt 
deeply aggrieved with the fate which permitted him to 
capitulate when unconditional surrender was so close at 
hand. His language for one brief quarter of an hour 
did more to upset the progress of Christian endeavour in 
the Far East than all the idols in the Chinese Empire. 

“There’s nawthin’ in England for me, Jackie. My 
gal’s a bloomin’ foreigner by this time and she’ll sell 
the bleedin’ farm, of course. She’s an h’ American, God 
bless ’er ’eart. I daresay if I’d go to ’er and say I’d like 
my farm back again she’d want to fork hover, but ’er 
bloody ’usband wouldn’t be for that sort of hextrava- 
gance. ’E’d boot me off the hisland.” 

“The United States isn’t an island, Tazzy,” explained 
Mr. Wyckholme, gulping his brandy and soda. 

Mr. Wyckholme was the second son of Sir Somebody- 
or-other and had married the vicar’s daughter. This 
put him into such bad odour with his family that he hur- 
ried off to the dogs — and a goodly sized menagerie be- 
sides, if the records of the inebriate’s asylum are to 
be credited. His wife, after enduring him for sixteen 
years, secured a divorce. It may not have been intended 
as an insult to the scapegoat, but no sooner had she 
freed herself from him than his father, Sir Somebody-or- 
other, took her and her young daughter into the ancestral 
halls and gave them a much-needed abiding-place. This 


THE LATE MR. SKAGGS 


7 


left poor Mr. Jack quite completely out in the world — 
and he proceeded to make the best and the worst of it 
while he had the strength and ambition. Accepting the 
world as his home, he ventured forth to visit every nook 
and cranny of it. In course of time he came upon his 
old-time neighbour and boyhood friend, Taswell Skaggs, 
in the city of Shanghai. Neither of them had seen the 
British Isles in two years or more. 

“ ’Ow do you know ?” demanded Taswell. 

“Haven’t I been there, old chap? A year or more? 
It’s a rotten big place where gentlemen aspire to sell 
gloves and handkerchiefs and needlework over the shop 
counters. At any rate, that’s what every one said every 
one else was doing, and advised me to — to get a situation 
doing the same. You know, Tazzy, I couldn’t well 
afford to starve and I wouldn't sell things, so I came 
away. But it’s no island.” 

“Well, that’s neither here nor there, Jackie. I ’aven’t 
a ’ome and you ’aven’t a ’ome, and we’re wanderers on 
the face of the earth. My wife played me a beastly 
trick, dying like that. I say marriage is a blooming 
nuisance.” 

“Marriage, my boy, is the convalescence from a love af- 
fair. One wants to get out the worst way but has to stay 
in till he’s jolly well cured. For my part, I’m never 
going back to England.” 

“Nor I. It would be just like me, Jackie, to ’ave a 
relapse and never get out again.” 

The old friends, with tear-dimmed eyes, shook hands 
and vowed that nothing short of death should part them 
during the remainder of their journey through life. 
That night they took an inventory. Jack Wyckholme, 
gentleman’s son and ne’er-do-well, possessed nine pounds 
and a fraction, an appetite and excellent spirits, while 
Taswell Skaggs exhibited a balance of one thousand 


8 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


pounds in a Shanghai bank, a fairly successful trade in 
Celestial necessities, and an unbounded eagerness to 
change his luck. 

“I have a proposition to make to you, Tazzy,” said Mr. 
Wyckholme, late in the night. 

“I think I’ll listen to it, Jackie,” replied Mr. Skaggs, 
quite soberly. 

As the outcome of this midnight proposition, Taswell 
Skaggs and John Wyckholme arrived, two months later, 
at the tiny island of Japat, somewhere south of the 
Arabian Sea, there to remain until their dying days and 
there to accumulate the wealth which gave the first 
named a chance to make an extraordinary will. For 
thirty years they lived on the island of Japat. Wyck- 
holme preceded Skaggs to the grave by two winters and 
he willed his share of everything to his partner of thirty 
years’ standing. But there was a proviso in Wyck- 
holme’s bequest, just as there was in that of Skaggs. 
Each had made his will some fifteen years or more before 
death and each had bequeathed his fortune to the sur- 
vivor. At the death of the survivor the entire property 
was to go to the grandchild of each testator, with certain 
reservations to be mentioned later on, each having, by 
investigation, discovered that he possessed a single 
grandchild. 

The island of Japat had been the home of a Moham- 
medan race, the outgrowth of Arabian adventurers who 
had fared far from home many years before Wyckholme 
happened upon the island by accident. It was a British 
possession and there were two or three thousand inhabi- 
tants, all Mohammedans. Skaggs and Wyckholme pur- 
chased the land from the natives, protected and eased 
their rights with the government and proceeded to real- 
ise on what the natives had unwittingly prepared for 
them. In course of time the natives repented of the deal 


THE LATE MR. SKAGGS 


9 


which gave the Englishmen the right to pick and sell 
the rubies and other precious stones that they had been 
trading away for such trifles as silks, gewgaws and 
women; a revolution was imminent. Whereupon the 
owners organised the entire population into a great stock 
company, retaining four-fifths of the property them- 
selves. This seemed to be a satisfactory arrangement, 
despite the fact that some of the more warlike leaders 
were difficult to appease. But, as Messrs. Wyckholme 
and Skaggs owned the land and the other grants, there 
was little left for the islanders but arbitration. It is 
only necessary to add that the beautiful island of Japat, 
standing like an emerald in the sapphire waters of the 
Orient, brought millions in money to the two men who 
had been unlucky in love. 

And now, after more than thirty years of voluntary 
exile, both of them were dead, and both of them were 
buried in the heart of an island of rubies, their deed and 
their deeds remaining to posterity — with reservations. 


CHAPTER II 


AN EXTRAORDINARY DOCUMENT 

It appears that the Messrs. Skaggs and Wyckholme, as 
their dual career drew to a close, set about to learn what 
had become of their daughters. Investigation proved 
that Wyckholme’s daughter had married a London artist 
named Ruthven. The Ruthvens in turn had one child, a 
daughter. Wyckholme’s wife and his daughter died 
when this grandchild was eight or ten years old. By 
last report, the grandchild was living with her father in 
London. She was a pretty young woman with scores of 
admirers on her hands and a very level head on her 
shoulders. 

Wyckholme held to his agreement with Skaggs by be- 
queathing his share of the property to him, but it was 
definitely set forth that at the death of his partner it was 
to go to Agnes Ruthven, the grandchild — with reserva- 
tions. 

Skaggs found that his daughter, who married Browne 
the American, likewise had died, but that she had left 
behind a son and heir. This son, Robert Browne, was in 
school when the joint will was designed, and he was to 
have Skaggs’s fortune at the death of Wyckholme, in 
case that worthy survived. 

All this would have been very simple had it not been for 
the instructions and conditions agreed upon by the two 
men. In order to keep the business and the property in- 
tact and under the perpetual control of one partnership, 
the granddaughter of Wyckholme was to marry the 
grandson of Skaggs within the year after the death of 
the surviving partner. The penalty to be imposed upon 
them if the conditions were not complied with — neither 


AN EXTRAORDINARY DOCUMENT 11 


to be excusable for the defection of the other — lay in the 
provision that the whole industry and its accumulated 
fortune, including the land (and they owned practically 
the entire island), was to go to the islanders — or, in plain 
words, to the original owners, their heirs, share and share 
alike, all of which was set forth concisely in a separate 
document attached. Wyckholme named Sir John Allen- 
crombie as one executor and Skaggs selected Alfred 
Bowen, of Boston, as the other. 

As Wyckholme was the first to die, Skaggs became sole 
owner of the island and its treasures, and it was he who 
made the final will in accordance with the original plans. 

The island of Japat with its jewels and its ancient 
chateau — of modern construction — represented several 
million pounds sterling. Its owners had accumulated a 
vast fortune, but, living in seclusion as they did, were 
hard put for means to spend any considerable part of it. 
Wyckholme’s dream of erecting an exact replica of a 
famous old chateau found response in the equally whimsi- 
sical Skaggs, who constantly bemoaned the fact that it 
was impossible to spend money. For five years after its 
completion the two old men, with an army of Arabian 
retainers and Nubian slaves, lived like Oriental potentates 
in the huge structure on the highlands overlooking the 
sea. 

Skaggs seldom went from one part of his home to an- 
other without a guide. It was so vast and so labyrinthine 
that he feared he might become lost forever. The dun- 
geon below the chateau, and the moat with its bridges, 
were the especial delight of these lonely, romantic old 
chaps. One of the builders of this rare pile was now 
sleeping peacefully in the sarcophagus beneath the 
chapel ; the other was lying dead and undiscovered in the 
very heart of his possessions. Their executors were 
sourly wondering whether the two venerable testators 


12 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


were not even then grinning from those faraway sep- 
ulchres in contemplation of the first feud their unprimi- 
tive castle was to know. 

The magnificent plans of the partners would have been 
a glorious tribute to romance had it not been for one 
fatal obstacle. The trouble was that neither young Miss 
Ruthven nor young Mr. Browne knew that their grand- 
fathers lived, much less that they owned an island in the 
South Seas. Therefore it is quite natural that they could 
not have known they were expected to marry each other. 
In complete but blissful ignorance that the other existed, 
the young legatees fell in love with persons unmentioned 
in the will and performed the highly commendable but 
exceedingly complicating act of matrimony. This 
emergency, it is humane to suspect, had not revealed it- 
self to either of the grandfathers. 

Miss Ruthven, from motives peculiar to the head and 
not to the heart, set about to earn a title for herself. 
Three months before the death of Mr. Skaggs she was 
married to Lord Deppingham, who possessed a title and 
a country place that rightfully belonged to his creditors. 
Mr. Browne, just out of college, hung out his shingle as 
a physician and surgeon, and forthwith, with all the con- 
fidence his profession is supposed to inspire, proceeded to 
marry the daughter of a brokerage banker in Boston 
and at once found himself struggling with the difficulties 
of Back Bay society. 

A clause in the will, letter of instruction attached, de- 
manded that the two grandchildren should take up their 
residence in the chateau within six months after the death 
of the testator, there to remain through the compulsory 
days of courtship up to and including the wedding day. 
Four months had already passed. It was also stipulated 
that the executors should receive £10,000 each at the 
expiration of their year of servitude, provided it was 


AN EXTRAORDINARY DOCUMENT 13 


shown in court that they had carried out the wishes of 
the testator, or, in failing, had made the most diligent 
effort within human power. 

“It is very explicit,” murmured Mr. Hare, for the third 
time. “I suppose the first step is to notify young Mr. 
Browne of his misfortune. His lordship has the task 
of breaking the news to Lady Deppingham.” 

“You are assuming that I intend to act under this ridic- 
ulous will.” 

“Certainly. It means about $50,000 to you at the end 
of the year, with nothing to do but to notify two per- 
sons of the terms in the will. If they’re not divorced 
and married again at the end of the year, you and Sir 
John simply turn everything over to the Malays or what- 
ever they are. It’s something like ‘dust to dust,’ isn’t 
it, after all? I think it’s easy sledding for you.” 

Mr. Bowen was eventually won over by Mr. Hare’s en- 
thusiasm. “Notifications” took wing and flew to differ- 
ent parts of the world, while many lawyers hovered like 
vultures to snatch at the bones should a war at law ensue. 

Young Mr. Browne (he was hardly a doctor even in 
name) hastened downtown in response to a message from 
the American executor, and was told of the will which 
had been filed in England, the home land of the testator. 
To say that this debonair, good-looking young gentle- 
man was flabbergasted would be putting it more than 
mildly. There is no word in the English language strong 
enough to describe his attitude at that perilous moment. 

“What shall I do — what can I do, Mr. Bowen?” he 
gasped, bewildered. 

“Consult an attorney,” advised Mr. Bowen promptly. 

“I’ll do it,” shouted “Bobby” Browne, one time half- 
back on his college eleven. “Break the will for me, Mr. 
Bowen, and I’ll give ” 

“I can’t break it, Bobby. I’m its executor.” 


14 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Good Lord! Well, then, who is the best will-breaker 
you know, please? Something has to be done right 
away.” 

“I’m afraid you don’t grasp the situation. Now if you 

were not married it would ” 

“I wouldn’t give up my wife for all the islands in the 
universe. That’s settled. You don’t know how happy 
we are. She’s the ” 

“Yes, yes, I know,” interrupted the wily Mr. Bowen. 
“Don’t tell me about it. She’s a stumbling block, how- 
ever, even though we are agreed that she’s a most de- 
lightful one. Your co-legatee also possesses a block, per- 
haps not so delicate, but I daresay she feels the same 
about hers as you do about yours. I can’t advise you, 

my boy. Go and see Judge Garrett over in the K 

building. They say he expects to come back from the 
grave to break his own will.” 

Ten minutes later an excited young man rushed into 

an office in the K building. Two minutes afterward 

he was laying the case before that distinguished old coun- 
sellor, Judge Abner Garrett. 

“You will have to fight it jointly,” said Judge Garrett, 
after extracting the wheat from the chaff of Browne’s 
remarks. “You can’t take hers away from her and she 
can’t get yours. We must combine against the natives. 
Come back to-morrow at two.” 

Promptly at two Browne appeared, eager^ed and 
nervous. He had left behind him at home a miserable 
young woman with red eyes and choking breath who be- 
moaned the cruel conviction that she stood between him 
and fortune. 

“But hang it all, dearest, I wouldn’t marry that girl if 
I had the chance. I’d marry you all over again to-day if 
I could,” he had cried out to her, but she wondered all 
afternoon if he really meant it. It never entered her head 


AN EXTRAORDINARY DOCUMENT 15 


to wonder if Lady Deppingham was old or young, pretty 
or ugly, bright or dull. She had been Mrs. Browne for 
three months and she could not quite understand how she 
had been so happy up to this sickening hour. 

Judge Garrett had a copy of the will in his hand. He 
looked dubious, even dismayed. 

“It’s as sound as the rock of Gibraltar,” he announced 
dolefully. 

“You don’t mean it!” gasped poor Bobby, mopping his 
fine Harvard brow, his six feet of manhood shrinking 
perceptibly as he looked about for a chair in which to 
collapse. “C — can’t it be smashed?” 

“It might be an easy matter to prove either of these old 
gentlemen to have been insane, but the two of them to- 
gether make it out of the question ” 

“Darned unreasonable.” 

“What do you mean, sir?” indignantly. 

“I mean — oh, you know what I mean. The conditions 
and all that. Why, the old chumps must have been try- 
ing to prove their grandchildren insane when they made 
that will. Nobody but imbeciles would marry people 
they’d never seen. I ” 

“But the will provides for a six months’ courtship, Dr. 
Browne, I’m sorry to say. You might learn to love a per- 
son in less time and still retain your mental balance, you 
know, especially if she were pretty and an heiress to half 
your own fortune. I daresay that is what they were 
thinking about.” 

“Thinking? They weren’t thinking of anything at all. 
They weren’t capable. Why didn’t they consider the pos- 
sibility that things might turn out just as they have?” 

“Possibly they did consider it, my boy. It looks to me 
as if they did not care a rap whether it went to their 
blood relatives or to the islanders. I fancy of the two 
they loved the islanders more. At any rate, they left a 


16 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


beautiful opening for the very complications which now 
conspire to give the natives their own, after all. There 
may be some sort of method in their badness. More than 
likely they concluded to let luck decide the matter.” 

“Well, I guess it has, all right.” 

“Don’t lose heart. It’s worth fighting for even if you 
lose. I’d hate to see those islanders get all of it, even jf 
you two can’t marry each other. I’ve thought it over 
pretty thoroughly and I’ve reached a conclusion. It’s 
necessary for both of you to be on the ground according 
to schedule. You must go to the island, wife or no wife, 
and there’s not much time to be lost. Lady Deppingham 
won’t let the grass grow under her feet if I know any- 
thing about the needs of English nobility, and I’ll bet 
my hat she’s packing her trunks now for a long stay in 
Japat. You have farther to go than she, but you must 
get over there inside of sixty days. I daresay your prac- 
tice can take care of itself,” ironically. Browne nodded 
cheerfully. “You can’t tell what may happen in the next 
six months.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, it’s possible that you may become a widower and 
she a wid ” 

“Good heaven, Judge Garrett! Impossible!” gasped 
Bobby Browne, clutching the arms of his chair. 

“Nothing is impossible, my boy ” 

“Well, if that’s what you’re counting on you can count 
me out. I won’t speculate on my wife’s death.” 

“But, man, suppose that it did happen!” roared the 
judge irascibly. “You should be prepared for the best 
— I mean the worst. Don’t look like a sick dog. We’ve 
got to watch every corner, that’s all, and be Johnny-on- 
the-spot when the time comes. You go to the island at 
once. Take your wife along if you like. You’ll find her 
ladyship there, and she’ll need a woman to tell her 


AN EXTRAORDINARY DOCUMENT 17 


troubles to. I’ll have the papers ready for you to sign in 
three days, and I don’t think we’ll have any trouble get- 
ting the British heirs to j oin in the suit to overthrow the 
will. The only point is this : the islanders must not have 
the advantage that your absence from Japat will give to 
them. Now, I’ll ” 

“But, good Lord, Judge Garrett, I can’t go to that 
confounded island,” wailed Browne. “Take my wife over 
among those heathenish ” 

“Do you expect me to handle this case for you, sir?” 

“Sure.” 

“Then let me handle it. Don’t interfere. When you 
start in to get somebody else’s money you have to do a 
good many things you don’t like, no matter whether you 
are a lawyer or a client.” 

“But I don’t like the suggestion that my wife will be 
obliged to die in order ” 

“Please leave all the details to me, Mr. Browne. It may 
not be necessary for her to die. There are other alterna- 
tives in law. Give the lawyers a chance. We’ll see what 
we can do. Besides, it would be unreasonable to expect 
his lordship to die also. All you have to do is to plant 
yourself on that island and stay there until we tell you 
to get off.” 

“Or the islanders push me off,” lugubriously. 

“Now, listen intently and I’ll tell you just what you are 
to do.” 

Young Mr. Browne went away at dusk, half reeling un- 
der the responsibility of existence, and eventual^ reached 
the side of the anxious young woman uptown. He bared 
the facts and awaited the wail of dismay. 

“I think it will be perfectly jolly,” she cried, instead, 
and kissed him rapturously. 

Over on the opposite side of the Atlantic the excite- 
ment in certain circles was even more intense than that 


18 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


produced in Boston. Lord Deppingham needed the 
money, but he was a whole day in grasping the fact that 
his wife could not have it and him at the same time. The 
beautiful and fashionable Lady Deppingham, once little 
Agnes Ruthven, came as near to having hysteria as Eng- 
lishwomen ever do, but she called in a lawyer instead of 
a doctor. For three days she neglected her social duties 
(and they were many), ignored her gallant admirers 
(and they were many), and hurried back and forth be- 
tween home and chambers so vigorously that his lordship 
was seldom closer than a day behind in anything she did. 

There was a great rattling of trunks, a jangling of 
keys, a thousand good-byes, a cast-off season, and the 
Deppinghams were racing away for the island of Japat, 
somewhere in the far South Seas. 


CHAPTER III 


INTRODUCING HOLLINGSWORTH CHASE 

While all this was being threshed out by the persons 
most vitally interested in the affairs of Taswell Skaggs 
and John Wyckholme, events of a most unusual charac- 
ter were happening to one who not only had no interest 
in the aforesaid heritage, but no knowledge whatever of 
its existence. The excitement attending the Skaggs- 
Wyckholme revelations had not yet spread to the Grand 
Duchy of Rapp-Thorberg, apparently lost as it was 
in the cluster of small units which went to make up a 
certain empire: one of the world powers. The Grand 
Duke Michael disdained the world at large ; he had but 
little in common with anything that moved beyond the 
confines of his narrow domain. His court was sleepy, 
lackadaisical, unemotional, impregnable to the taunts of 
progression; his people were thrifty, stolid and abso- 
lutely stationary in their loyalty to the ancient tradi- 
tions of the duchy ; his army was a mere matter of taxa- 
tion and not a thing of pomp or necessity. Four times 
a year he inspected the troops, and just as many times in 
the year were the troops obliged to devote themselves to 
rigorous display. The rest of the time was spent in 
social intrigue and whistling for the war-clouds that 
never came. 

The precise location of the Grand Duchy in the map of 
the world has little or nothing to do with this narrative ; 
indeed, were it not for the fact that the Grand Duke 
possessed a charming and most desirable daughter, the 
Thorberg dynasty would not be mentioned at all. For 
that matter, it is brought to light briefly for the sole 
purpose of identifying the young lady in question, and 


20 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

the still more urgent desire to connect her past with her 
future — for which we have, perhaps intemperately, an 
especial consideration. It is only necessary, therefore, 
for us to step into and out of the Grand Duchy without 
the procrastination usual in a sojourner, stopping long 
enough only to see how tiresome it would be to stay, 
and to wonder why any one remained who could get away. 
Not that the Grand Duchy was an utterly undesirable 
place, but that too much time already had been wasted 
there by the populace itself. 

It has been said that events of a most unusual charac- 
ter were happening ; any event that roused the people 
from their daily stolidity was sufficiently unusual to sug- 
gest the superlative. The Grand Duke’s peace of mind 
had been severely disturbed — so severely, in fact, that he 
was transferring his troubles to the Emperor, who, in 
turn, felt obliged to communicate with the United States 
Ambassador, and who, in his turn, had no other alterna- 
tive than to take summary action in respect to the indis- 
cretions of a fellow-countryman. 

In the beginning, it was not altogether the fault of the 
young man who had come from America to serve his 
country. Whatever may have been the turmoil in the 
Grand Duke’s palace at Thorberg, Chase’s conscience was 
even and serene. He had no excuses to offer — for that 
matter none would have been entertained — and he was 
resigning his post with the confidence that he had per- 
formed his obligations as an American gentleman should, 
even though the performance had created an extraordi- 
nary commotion. Chase was new to the Old World and 
its customs, especially those rigorous ones which sur- 
rounded royalty and denied it the right to venture into 
the commonplace. The ambassador at the capital of the 
Empire at first sought to excuse him on the ground of 
ignorance; but the Grand Duke insisted that even an 


INTRODUCING HOLLINGSWORTH CHASE 21 


American could not be such a fool as Chase had been ; so, 
it must have been a wilful offence that led up to the con- 
troversy. 

Chase had been the representative of the American Gov- 
ernment at Thorberg for six months. He never fully 
understood why the government should have a represen- 
tative there ; but that was a matter quite entirely for the 
President to consider. The American flag floated above 
his doorway in the Friedrich Strasse, but in all his six 
months of occupation not ten Americans had crossed 
the threshold. As a matter of fact, he had seen fewer 
than twenty Americans in all that time. He was a 
vigorous, healthy young man, and it may well be pre- 
sumed that the situation bored him. Small wonder, then, 
that he kept out of mischief for half a year. Diplomatic 
service is one thing and the lack of opportunity is quite 
another. Chase did his best to find occupation for his 
diplomacy, but what chance had he with nothing ahead 
of him but regular reports to the department in which 
he could only announce that he was in good health and 
that no one had “called.” 

Chase belonged to the diplomatic class which owes its 
elevation to the influence of Congress — not to Congress 
as a body but to one of its atoms. He was not a 
politician; no more was he an office seeker. He was a 
real soldier of fortune, in search of affairs — in peace or 
in war, on land or at sea. Possessed of a small income, 
sufficiently adequate to sustain life if he managed to 
advance it to the purple age (but wholly incapable of 
supporting him as a thriftless diplomat), he was com- 
pelled to make the best of his talents, no matter to what 
test they were put. He left college at twenty-two, pos- 
sessed of the praiseworthy design to earn his own way 
without recourse to the $4,500 income from a certain 
trust fund. His plan also incorporated the hope to 


22 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


save every penny of that income for the possible “rainy 
day.” He was now thirty ; in each of several New York 
banks he had something like $4,000 drawing three per 
cent, interest while he picked his blithe way through the 
world on $2,500 a year, more or less, as chance ordained. 

“When Fm forty,” Chase was wont to remark to envi- 
ous spendthrifts who couldn’t understand his philosophy, 
“I’ll have over a hundred thousand there, and if I live 
to be ninety, just think what I’ll have! And it will be 
like finding the money, don’t you see? Of course, I 
won’t live to be ninety. Moreover, I may get married 
and have to maintain a poor wife with rich relatives, 
which is a terrible strain, you know. You have to live up 
to your wife’s relatives, if you don’t do anything else.” 

He did not refer to the chance that he was quite sure 
to come in for a large legacy at the death of his maternal 
grandfather, a millionaire ranch owner in the Far West. 
Chase never counted on probabilities ; he took what came 
Und was satisfied. 

After leaving college, he drifted pretty much over the 
world, taking pot luck with fortune and clasping the 
hand of circumstance, to be led into the highways and 
byways, through good times and ill times, in love and 
out, always coming safely into port with a smiling wind 
behind. There had been hard roads to travel as well as 
easy ones, but he never complained ; he swung on through 
life with the heart of a soldier and the confidence of a 
Pagan. He loathed business and he abhorred trade. 

“That little old trust fund is making more money for 
me by lying idle than I could accumulate in a century by 
hard work as a grocer or an undertaker,” he was prone to 
philosophise when his uncles, who were merchants, urged 
him to settle down and “do something.” Not that there 
were grocers or undertakers among them ; it was his way 
of impressing his sense of freedom upon them. 


INTRODUCING HOLLINGSWORTH CHASE 23 


He was an orphan and bounden to no man. No one 
had the right to question his actions after his twenty- 
first anniversary. It was fortunate for him that he was 
a level-headed as well as a wild-hearted chap, else he 
might have sunk to the perdition his worthy uncles pre- 
scribed for him. He went in for law at Yale, and then 
practised restlessly, vaguely for two years in Baltimore, 
under the patronage of his father’s oldest friend, a law- 
yer of distinction. 

“If I fail at everything else, I’ll go back to the prac- 
tice of law,” he said cheerfully. “Uncle Henry is mean 
enough to say that he has forgotten more law than I 
ever knew, but he has none the better of me. ’Gad, I am 
confident that I’ve forgotten more law, myself, than I 
ever knew.” 

Tiring of the law books and reports in the old judge’s 
office, he suddenly abandoned his, calling and set forth to 
see the world. Almost before his friends knew that he 
had left he was heard of in Turkestan. In course of 
time he served as a war correspondent for one of the 
great newspapers, acted as agent for great hemp dealers 
in the Philippines, carried a rifle with the Boers in South 
Africa, hunted wild beasts in Asia and in Hottentot 
land, took snapshots in St. Petersburg, and almost got 
to the North Pole with one of the expeditions. To do 
and be all of these he had to be a manly man. Not in a 
month’s journey would you meet a truer thoroughbred, 
a more agreeable chap, a more polished vagabond, than 
Hollingsworth Chase, first lieutenant in Dame Fortune’s 
army. Tall, good looking, rawboned, cheerful, gallant, 
he was the true comrade of those merry, reckless volun- 
teers from all lands who find commissions in Fortune’s 
army and serve her faithfully. He had shared pot luck 
in odd parts of the world with English lords, German 
barons and French counts — all serving under the com- 


24 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


mon flag. His heart had withstood the importunate bat- 
terings of many a love siege; the wounds had been 
pleasant ones and the recovery quick. He left no dead 
behind him. 

He was nearly thirty when the diplomatic service began 
to appeal to him as a pleasing variation from the rigor- 
ous occupations he had followed heretofore. A British 
lordling put it into his head, away out in Delhi. It 
took root, and he hurried home to attend to its growth. 
One of his uncles was a congressman and another was in 
some way connected with railroads. He first sought the 
influence of the latter and then the recommendation of 
the former. In less than six weeks after his arrival in 
Washington he was off for the city of Thorberg in the 
Grand Duchy of Rapp-Thorberg, carrying with him an 
appointment as consul and supplied with the proper 
stamps and seal of office. His uncle compassionately in- 
formed him beforehand that his service in Thorberg 
would be brief and certainly would lead up to something 
much better. 

At the end of five months he was devoutly, even 
pathetically, hoping that his uncle was no false prophet. 
He loathed Thorberg; he hated the inhabitants; he 
smarted under the sting of royal disdain ; he had no real 
friends, no boon companions and he was obliged to be 
good! What wonder, then, that the bored, suffering, 
vivacious Mr. Chase seized the first opportunity to leap 
headforemost into the very thick of a most appalling 
indiscretion ! 

When he first arrived in Thorberg to assume his slug- 
gish duties he was not aware of the fact that the Grand 
Duke had an unmarried daughter, the Princess Genevra. 
Nor, upon learning that the young lady existed, was he 
particularly impressed ; the royal princesses he had been 
privileged to look upon were not remarkable for their 


INTRODUCING HOLLINGSWORTH CHASE 25 


personal attractiveness: he forthwith established Genevra 
in what he considered to be her proper sphere. 

She was visiting in St. Petersburg or Berlin or some 
other place — he gave it no thought at the time — when 
he reached his post of duty, and it was toward the end 
of his fifth month before she returned to her father’s pal- 
ace in Thorberg. He awoke to the importance of the 
occasion, and took some slight interest in the return of 
the royal young lady — even going so far as to follow 
the crowd to the railway station on the sunny June after- 
noon. His companions were two young fellows from the 
English bank and a rather agreeable attache of the 
French Government. 

He saw the Princess for the first time that afternoon, 
and he was bowled over, to use the expression of his 
English friends with whom he dined that night. She was 
the first woman that he had ever looked upon that he 
could describe, for she was the only one who had im- 
pressed him to that extent. This is how he pictured her 
at the American legation in Paris a few weeks later: 

“Ever see her? Well, you’ve something to live for, 
gentlemen. I’ve seen her but three times and I don’t 
seem able to shake off the spell. Her sisters, you know — 
the married ones — are nothing to look at, and the Grand 
Duke isn’t a beauty by any means. How the deuce she 
happens to produce such a contrast I can’t, for the life 
of me, understand. Nature does some marvellous things, 
by George, and she certainly spread herself on the Prin- 
cess Genevra. You’ve never seen such hair. ’Gad, it’s 
as near like the kind that Henner painted as anything 
human could be, except that it’s more like old gold, if 
you can understand what I mean by that. Not bronze, 
mind you> nor the raw red, but — oh, well, I’m not a 
novelist, sc I can’t half-way describe it. She’s rather tall 
— not toe tall, mind you — five feet five, I’d say — what- 


26 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


ever that is in the metric system. Slender and well 
dressed — oh, that’s the strangest thing of all! Well 
dressed ! Think of a princess being well dressed ! I can 
see that you don’t believe me, but I’ll stake my word 
it’s true. Of course, I’ve seen but three of her gowns 
and — but that’s neither here nor there. I’d say she’s 
twenty-two or twenty-three years of age — not a minute 
older. I think her eyes are a very dark grey, almost 
blue. Her skin is like a — a — oh, let me see, what is 
there that’s as pure and soft as her skin? Something 
warm, and pink, and white, d’ye see? Well, never mind. 
And her smile! And her frown! You know, I’ve seen 
both of ’em, and one’s as attractive as the other. She’s a 
real princess, gentlemen, and the prettiest woman I’ve 
ever laid my eyes upon. And to think of her as the wife 
of that blithering little ass — that nincompoop of a Karl 
Brabetz ! She loathes him, I’m sure — I know she does. 
And she’s got to marry him! That’s what she gets for 
being a Grand Duke’s daughter. Brabetz is the heir 
apparent to some duchy or other over there and is sup- 
posed to be the catch of the season. You’ve heard of 
him. He was in Paris this season and cut quite a figure 
— a prince with real money in his purse, you know. I 
wonder why it is that our American girls can’t marry the 
princes who have money instead of those who have none. 
Not that I wish any of our girls such bad luck as 
Brabetz! I’ll stake my head he’ll never forget me!” 
Chase concluded with a sharp, reflective laugh in which 
his hearers joined, for the escapade which inspired it 
was being slyly discussed in every embassy in Europe 
by this time, but no one seemed especially loth to shake 
Chase’s hand on account of it. 

But to return : the advent of the Princess put fresh life 
into the slowgoing city and court circles. Charming 
people, whom Chase had never seen before, seemed to 


INTRODUCING HOLLINGSWORTH CHASE 27 

spring into existence suddenly ; the streets took on a new 
air; the bands played with a keener zest and the army 
prinked itself into a most amazingly presentable shape. 
Officers with noble blood in their veins stepped out of 
the obscurity of months ; swords clanked merrily instead 
of dragging slovenly at the heels of their owners ; uni- 
forms glistened with a new ambition, and the whole 
atmosphere of Thorberg underwent a change so startling 
that Chase could hardly believe his senses. He lifted up 
his chin, threw out his chest, banished the look of discon- 
tent from his face and announced to himself that Thor- 
berg was not such a bad place after all. 

For days he swung blithely through the streets, the 
hang-dog look gone from his eyes, always hoping for 
another glimpse of the fair sorceress who had worked 
the great transformation. He even went so far as to 
read the court society news in the local papers, and grew 
to envy the men whose names were mentioned in the 
same column with that of the fair Genevra. It was two 
weeks before he saw her the second time; he was more 
enchanted by her face than before, especially as he came 
to realise the astonishing fact that she was kind enough 
to glance in his direction from time to time. 

It was during the weekly concert in the Kursaal, late 
one night. She came in with a party, among whom he 
recognised several of the leading personages at court. 

Once a week the regular concert gave way to a func- 
tion in which the royal orchestra was featured. On such 
occasions the attendance was extremely fashionable, the 
Duke and his court usually being present. It was not 
until this time, however, that Chase felt that he could sit 
through a concert without being bored to extinction. 
He loved music, but not the kind that the royal orchestra 
rendered; Wagner, Chopin, Mozart were all the same 
to him — he hated them fervently and he was not yet 


28 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


given to stratagems and spoils. He sat at a table with 
the French attache just below the box occupied by the 
Princess and her party. In spite of the fact that he was 
a gentleman, born and bred, he could not conquer count- 
less impulses to look at the flower-face of the royal audi- 
tor. They were surreptitious and sidelong peeps, it is 
true, but they served him well. He caught her gaze 
bent upon him more than once, and he detected an in- 
terest in her look that pleased his vanity exceeding 
great. 

Gradually the programme led up to the feature of the 
evening — the rendition of a great work under the direc- 
tion of a famous leader, a special guest of the music- 
loving Duke. 

Chase arose and cheered with the assemblage when the 
distinguished director made his appearance. Then he 
proceeded to forget the man and his genius — in fact 
everything save the rapt listener above him. She was 
leaning forward on the rail of the box, her chin in her 
hand, her eyes looking steadily ahead, enthralled by the 
music. Suddenly she turned and looked squarely into 
his eyes, as if impelled by the magnetism they uncon- 
sciously employed. A little flush mounted to her brow 
as she quickly resumed her former attitude. Chase 
cursed himself for a brainless lout. 

The number came to an end and the crowd arose to 
cheer the bowing, smiling director. Chase cheered and 
shouted “bravo,” too, because she was applauding as 
eagerly as the others. She called the flushed, bowing 
director to her box, and publicly thanked him for the 
pleasure he had given. Chase saw him kiss her hand as 
he murmured his gratitude. For the first time in his 
life he coveted the occupation of an orchestra leader. 

The director was a frail, rather good-looking young 
man, with piercing black eyes that seemed too bold in 


INTRODUCING HOLLINGSWORTH CHASE 29 


their scrutiny of the young lady’s face. Chase began to 
hate him.; he was unreasonably thankful when he passed 
on to the box in which the Duke sat. 

The third and last time he saw the Princess Genevra 
before his sudden, spectacular departure from the Grand 
Duchy, was at the Duke’s reception to the nobility of 
Rapp-Thorberg and to the representatives of such na- 
tions of the world as felt the necessity of having a man 
there in an official capacity. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE INDISCREET MR. CHASE 

There was not a handsomer, more striking figure in the 
palace gardens on the night of the reception than Hol- 
lingsworth Chase, nor one whose poise proved that he 
knew the world quite as well as it is possible for any one 
man to know it. His was an unique figure, also, for he 
was easily distinguishable as the only American in the 
brilliant assemblage. 

He was presented to the Princess late in the evening, to- 
gether with Baggs of the British office. His pride and 
confidence received a severe shock. She glanced at him 
with unaffected welcome, but the air of one who was look- 
ing upon his face for the first time. It was not until he 
had spent a full hour in doleful self-commiseration, that 
his sense of worldliness came to his relief. In a flash, he 
was joyously convincing himself that her pose during 
the presentation was artfully — and very properly — as- 
sumed. He saw through it very plainly ! How simple 
he had been ! Of course, she could not permit him to feel 
that she had ever displayed the slightest interest in him ! 
His spirits shot upward so suddenly that Baggs accused 
him of “negotiating a drink on the sly” and felt very 
much injured that he had been ignored. 

The gardens of the palace were not unlike the stage set- 
ting of a great spectacle. The sleepy, stolid character of 
the court had been transformed, as if by magic. Chase 
wondered where all the pretty, vivacious women could 
have sprung from — and were these the officers of the 
Royal Guard that he had so often laughed at in disdain? 
Could that gay old gentleman in red and gold be the mor- 
bid, carelessly clad Duke of Rapp-Thorberg, whom he 


THE INDISCREET MR. CHASE 


31 


had grown to despise because he seemed so ridiculously 
unlike a real potentate? He marvelled and rejoiced as 
he strolled hither and thither with the casual Baggs, and 
for the first time in his life really felt that it was pleasant 
to be stared at — in admiration, too, he may be pardoned 
for supposing. 

He could not again approach within speaking distance 
of the Princess — nor did he presume to make the effort. 
Chase knew his proper place. It must be admitted, how- 
ever, that he was never far distant from her, but perhaps 
chance was responsible for that — chance and Baggs, who, 
by nature, kept as close to royalty as the restrictions 
allowed. 

She was the gayest, the most vivacious being in the 
whole assemblage; she had but to stretch out her hand 
or pro j ect her smile and every man in touch with the spell 
was ready to drop at her feet. At last, she led her court 
off toward the pavilion under which the royal orchestra 
was playing. As if it were a signal, every one turned his 
steps in that direction. Chase and the Englishman had 
been conversing diligently with an ancient countess and 
her two attractive daughters near the fountain. The 
Countess gave the command in the middle of Chase’s dis- 
sertation on Italian cooking, and the party hastily fell in 
line with the throng which hurried forward. 

“What is it? Supper again?” whispered Baggs, 
lugubriously. 

One of the young women, doubtless observing the look 
of curiosity in the face of the American, volunteered the 
information that the orchestra was to repeat the great 
number which had so stirred the musical world at the con- 
cert the week before. Chase’s look of despair was in- 
stantly banished by the recollection that the Princess had 
bestowed unqualified approval on the previous occasion. 
Hence, if she enjoyed it, he was determined to be pleas***- 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


32 


Again the dapper director came forward to lead the 
musicians, and again he was most enthusiastically re- 
ceived. His uniform fairly sparkled with the thrill of 
vanity, which seemed to burst from every seam ; his sword 
clanked madly against his nimble legs as he bowed and 
scraped his grateful recognition of the honour. This 
time Chase was not where he could watch the Princess: 
he found, therefore, that he could devote his attention to 
the music and the popular conductor. He was amazed to 
find that the fellow seemed to be inspired; he was also 
surprised to find himself carried away by the fervour of 
the moment. 

With the final crash of the orchestra, he found himself 
shouting again with the others ; oddly, this time he was 
as mad as they. A score or more of surprised, disapprov- 
ing eyes were turned upon him when he yelled “Encore !” 

“There will be no encore,” admonished the fair girl at 
his side, kindly. “It is not New York,” she added, with 
a sly smile. 

Ten minutes later, Chase and the Englishman were 
lighting their cigars in an obscure comer of the gardens, 
off in the shadows where the circle of light spent itself 
among the trees. 

“Extraordinarily beautiful,” Chase murmured reflec- 
tively, as he seated himself upon the stone railing along 
the drive. 

“Yes, they say he really wrote it himself,” drawled 
Baggs, puffing away. 

“I’m not talking about the music,” corrected Chase 
sharply. 

“Oh,” murmured Baggs, apologetically. “The night?” 

“No! The Princess, Baggs. Haven’t you noticed her?” 
with intense sarcasm in his tone. 

“Of course, I have, old chap. By Jove, do }^ou know 
she is goodlooking — positively ripping.” 


THE INDISCREET MR. CHASE 33 

The concert over, people began strolling into the more 
distant corners of the huge garden, down the green- 
walled walks and across the moonlit terraces. For a long 
time, the two men sat moodily smoking in their dark 
nook, watching the occasional passers-by ; listening to 
the subdued laughter and soft voices of the women, the 
guttural pleasantries of the men. They lazily observed 
the approach of one couple, attracted, no doubt, by the 
disparity in the height of the two shadows. The man 
was at least half a head shorter than his companion, but 
his ardour seemed a thousandfold more vast. Chase was 
amused by the apparent intensity of the small officer’s 
devotion, especially as it was met with a coldness that 
would have chilled the fervour of a man much larger and 
therefore more timid. It was impossible to see the faces 
of the couple until they passed through a moonlit streak 
in the walk, quite close at hand. 

Chase started and grasped his companion’s arm. One 
was the Princess Genevra and — was it possible? Yes, 
the nimble conductor! The sensation of the hour — the 
musical lion ! Moreover, to Chase’s cold horror, the “lit- 
tle freak” was actually making violent love to the di- 
vinity of Rapp-Thorberg ! 

There was no doubt of it now. The Princess and her 
escort — the plebeian upstart — were quite near at hand, 
and, to the dismay of the smokers, apparently were una- 
ware of their presence in the shadows. Chase’s heart was 
boiling with disappointed rage. His idol had fallen, 
from a tremendous height to a depth which disgusted him. 

Then transpired the thing which brought about Hol- 
lingsworth Chase’s sudden banishment from Rapp-Thor- 
berg, and came near to making him the laughing stock of 
the service. 

The Princess had not seen the two men; nor had the 
fervent conductor, whose impassioned French was easily 


34 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


distinguishable by the unwilling listeners. The sharp, 
indignant “no” of the Princess, oft repeated, did much 
to relieve the pain in the heart of her American admirer. 
Finally, with an unmistakable cry of anger, she halted 
not ten feet from where Chase sat, as though he had be- 
come a part of the stone rail. He could almost feel the 
blaze in her eyes as she turned upon the presumptuous 
conductor. 

“I have asked you not to touch me, sir! Is not that 
enough? If you persist, I shall be compelled to appeal to 
my father again. The whole situation is loathsome to 
me. Are you blind? Can you not see that I despise you? 
I will not endure it a day longer. You promised to re- 
spect my wishes ” 

“How can I respect a promise which condemns me to 
purgatory every time I see you?” he cried passionately. 
“I adore you. You are the queen of my life, the holder 
of my soul. Genevra, Genevra, I love you ! My soul 
for one tender word, for one soft caress ! Ah, do not be 
so cruel ! I will be your slave ” 

“Enough ! Stop, I say ! If you dare to touch me !” 
she cried, drawing away from her tormentor, her voice 
trembling with anger. The little conductor’s manner 
changed on the instant. He gave a snarl of rage and 
despair combined as he raised his clenched hands in the 
air. For a moment words seemed to fail him. Then he 
cried out : 

“By heaven, I’ll make you pay for this some day ! You 
shall learn what a man can do with a woman such as you 
are! You ” 

Just at that moment a tall figure leaped from the shad- 
ows and confronted the quivering musician. A heavy 
hand fell upon his collar and he was almost jerked from 
his feet, half choked, half paralysed with alarm. Not a 
word was spoken. Chase whirled the presumptuous 


THE INDISCREET MR. CHASE 


35 


suitor about until he faced the gates to the garden. Then, 
with more force than he realised, he applied his boot to 
the person of the offender — once, twice, thrice ! The mili- 
tary jacket of the recipient of these attentions was of the 
abbreviated European pattern and the trousers were skin 
tight. 

The Princess started back with a cry of alarm — ay, ter- 
ror. The onslaught was so sudden, so powerless to avert, 
that it seemed like a visitation of wrath from above. She 
stared, wide-eyed and unbelieving, upon the brief trag- 
edy ; she saw her tormentor hurled viciously toward the 
gates and then, with new alarm, saw him pick himself up 
from the ground, writhing with pain and anger. His 
sword flashed from its scabbard as, with a scream of rage, 
he dashed upon the tall intruder. She saw Chase — even 
in the shadows she knew him to be the American — she saw 
Chase lightly leap aside, avoiding the thrust for his 
heart. Then, as if he were playing with a child, he 
wrested the weapon from the conductor’s hand, snapped 
the blade in two pieces and threw them off into the bushes. 

“Skip !” was his only word. It was a command that 
no one in Rapp-Thorberg ever had heard before. 

“You shall pay for this!” screamed the conductor, tug- 
ging at his collar. “Scoundrel ! Dog ! Beast ! What do 
you mean! Murderer! Robber! Assassin!” 

“You know what I mean, you little shrimp!” roared 
Chase. “Skip ! Don’t hang around here a second longer 
or I’ll — ” and he took a threatening step toward his ad- 
versary. The latter was discreet, if not actually a cow- 
ard. He turned tail and ran twenty paces or more in 
heartbreaking time ; then, realising that he was not pur- 
sued, stopped and shook his fist at his assailant. 

“Come, Genevra,” he gasped, but she remained as if 
rooted to the spot. He waited an instant, and then 
walked rapidly away in the direction of the palace, his 


36 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


back as straight as a ramrod, but his legs a trifle un- 
steady. The trio watched him for a full minute, speech- 
bound now that the deed was done and the consequences 
were to be considered. Baggs grasped Chase by the 
shoulder, shook him and exclaimed, when it was too late: 

“You blooming ass, do you know what you’ve done?” 

“The da — miserable cur was annoying the Princess,” 
muttered Chase, straightening his cuffs, vaguely realising 
that he had interfered too hastily. 

“Confound it, man, he’s the chap she’s going to marry.” 

“Marry?” gasped Chase. 

“The hereditary prince of Brabetz — Karl Brabetz.” 

“Good Lord!” 

“You must have known.” 

“How the dev — Of course I didn’t know,” groaned 
Chase. “But hang it all, man, he was annoying her. 
She was flouting him for it. She said she despised him. 
I don’t understand ” 

The Princess came forward into the light of the path. 
There was a quaint little wrinkle of mirth about her 
lips, which trembled nevertheless, but her eyes were full 
of solicitude. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” she began nervously. “You have made 
a serious mistake. But,” she added frankly, holding out 
her hand to him, “you meant to defend me. I thank you.” 

Chase bowed low over her hand, too bewildered to speak. 
Baggs was pulling at his mustache and looking nervously 
in the direction which the Prince had taken. 

“Pie’ll be back here with the guard,” he muttered. 

“He will go to my father,” said Genevra, her voice 
trembling. “He will be very angry. I am sorry, indeed, 
that you should have witnessed our — our scene. Of 
course, you could not have known who he was ” 

“I thought he was a — but in any event, your highness, 
he was annoying you,” supplemented Chase eagerly. 


THE INDISCREET MR. CHASE 


37 


“You will forgive me if I’ve caused you even greater, 
graver annoyance. What can I do to set the matter 
right? I can explain my error to the Duke. He’ll un- 
derstand ” 

“Alas, he will not understand. He does not even under- 
stand me,” she said meaningly. “Oh, I’m so sorry. It 
may — it will mean trouble for you.” There was a catch 
in her voice. 

“I’ll fight him,” murmured Chase, wiping his 
brow. 

“Deuce take it, man, he won’t fight you,” said Baggs. 
“He’s a prince, you know. He can’t, you know. It’s a 
beastly mess.” 

“Perhaps — perhaps you’d better go at once,” said the 
Princess, rather pathetically. “My father will not over- 
look the indignity to — to my — to his future son-in-law. I 
am afraid he may take extreme measures. Believe me, 
I understand why you did it and I — again I thank you. 
I am not angry with you, yet you will understand that 
I cannot condone your kind fault.” 

“Forgive me,” muttered the hapless Chase. 

“It would not be proper in me to say that I could bless 
you for what you have done,” she said, so naively that 
he lifted his eyes to hers and let his heart escape heaven- 
ward. 

“The whole world will call me a bungling, stupid ass 
for not knowing who he was,” said Chase, with a wretched 
smile. 

Her face brightened after a moment, and an entrancing 
smile broke around her lips. 

“If I were you, I’d never confess that I did not know 
who he was,” she said. “Let the world think that you 
did know. It will not laugh, then. If you can trust 
your friend to keep the secret, I am sure you can trust 
me to do the same.” 


38 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


Again Chase was speechless — this time with joy. She 
would shield him from ridicule! 

“And now, please go ! It were better if you went at 
once. I am afraid the affair will not end with to-night. 
It grieves me to feel that I may be the unhappy cause of 
misfortune to you.” 

“No misfortune can appal me now,” murmured he gal- 
lantly. Then came the revolting realisation that she was 
to wed the little musician. The thought burst from his 
lips before he could prevent : “I don’t believe you want to 

marry him. He is the Duke’s choice. You ” 

“And I am the Duke’s daughter,” she said steadily, a 
touch of hauteur in her voice. “Good-night. Good- 
bye. I am not sorry that it has happened.” 

She turned and left them, walking swiftly among the 
trees. A moment later her voice came from the shadows, 
quick and pleading. 

“Hasten,” she called softly. “They are coming. I can 
see them.” 

Baggs grasped Chase by the arm and hurried him 
through the gate, past the unsuspecting sentry. They 
did not know that the Princess, upon meeting the soldiers, 
told them that the two men had gone toward the palace 
instead of out into the city streets. It gave them half 
an hour’s start. 

“It’s a devil of a mess,” sighed Baggs, when they were 
far from the walls. “The Duke may have you jugged, 
and it would serve you jolly well right.” 

“Now, see here, Baggs, none of that,” growled Chase. 
“You’d have done the same thing if you hadn’t been 
brought up to fall on your face before royalty. It will 
cost me my job here, but I’m glad I did it. Understand?” 

“I’m sure it will cost you the job if nothing else. You’ll 
be relieved before to-morrow night, my word for it. And 
you’ll be lucky if that’s all. The Duke’s a terror. I 


THE INDISCREET MR. CHASE 39 

don’t, for the life of me, see how you failed to know who 
the chap really is.” 

“An Englishman never sees a joke until it is too late, 
they say. This time it appears to be the American who 
is slow witted. What I don’t understand is why he was 
leading that confounded band.” 

“My word, Chase, everybody in Europe — except you — 
knows that Brabetz is a crank about music. Composes, 
directs and all that. Over in Brabetz he supports the 
conservatory of music, written dozens of things for the 
orchestra, plays the pipe organ in the cathedral — all that 
sort of rot, you know. He’s a confounded little bounder, 
just the same. He’s mad about music and women and 
don’t care a hang about wine. The worst kind, don’t 
you know. I say, it’s a rotten shame she has to marry 
him. But that’s the way of it with royalty, old chap. You 
Americans don’t understand it. They have to marry 
one another whether they like it or not. But, I say, you’d 
better come over and stop with me to-night. It will be 
better if they don’t find you just yet.” 

Three days later, a man came down to relieve Chase of 
his office ; he was unceremoniously supplanted in the 
Duchy of Rapp-Thorberg. 

It was the successful pleading of the Princess Genevra 
that kept him from serving a period in durance vile. 


CHAPTER V 


THE ENGLISH INVADE 

The granddaughter of Jack Wyckholme, attended by 
two maids, her husband and his valet, a clerk from the 
chambers of Bosworth, Newnes & Grapewin, a red 
cocker, seventeen trunks and a cartload of late novels, 
which she had been too busy to read at home, was the 
first of the bewildered legatees to set foot upon the island 
of Japat. A rather sultry, boresome voyage across the 
Arabian Sea in a most unhappy steamer which called at 
Japat on its way to Sidney, depressed her spirits to some 
extent but not irretrievably. 

She was very pretty, very smart and delightfully arro- 
gant after a manner of her own. To begin with, Lady 
Agnes could see no sensible reason why she should be 
compelled to abandon a very promising autumn and 
winter at home, to say nothing of the following season, 
for the sake of protecting what was rightfully her own 
against the impudent claims of an unheard-of American. 

She complacently informed her solicitors that it was all 
rubbish ; they could arrange, if they would, without forc- 
ing her to take this abominable step. Upon reflection, 
however, and after Mr. Bosworth had pointed out the 
risk to her, she was ready enough to take the step, al- 
though still insisting that it was abominable. 

Mr. Saunders was the polite but excessively middle-class 
clerk who went out to keep the legal strings untangled 
for them. He was Soon to discover that his duties were 
even more comprehensive. 

It was he who saw to it that the luggage was transferred 
to the lighter which came out to the steamer when she 
dropped anchor off the town of Aratat; it was he who 


THE ENGLISH INVADE 


41 


counted the pieces and haggled with the boatmen; it 
was he who carried off the hand luggage when the native 
dock boys refused to engage in the work ; it was he who 
unfortunately dropped a suitcase upon the hallowed tail 
of the red cocker, an accident which ever afterward gave 
him a tenacity of grip that no man could understand; 
it was he who made all of the inquiries, did all of the 
necessary swearing, and came last in the procession 
which wended its indignant way up the long slope to 
the chateau on the mountain side. 

If Lady Deppingham expected a royal welcome from 
the inhabitants of Japat, she was soon to discover her 
error. Not only was the pictured scene of welcome miss- 
ing on the afternoon of her arrival, but an overpower- 
ing air of antipathy smote her in the face as she stepped 
from the lighter — conquest in her smile of conciliation. 
The attitude of the brown-faced Mohammedans who 
looked coldly upon the fair visitor was far from amiable. 
They did not fall down and bob their heads ; they did not 
even incline them in response to her overtures. What 
was more trying, they glared at the newcomers in a most 
expressive manner. Lady Deppingham’s chin was inter- 
rupted in its tilt of defiance by the shudder of alarm 
which raced through her slender figure. She glanced 
from right to left down the lines of swarthy islanders, 
and saw nothing in their faces but surly, bitter unfriend- 
liness. They stood stolidly, stonily at a distance, white- 
robed lines of resentment personified. 

Not a hand was lifted in assistance to the bewildered 
visitors; not a word, not a smile of encouragement es- 
caped the lips of the silent throng. 

Lady Agnes looked about eagerly in search of a white 
man’s face, but there was none to be seen except in her 
own party. A moment of panic came to her as she stood 
there on the pier, almost alone, while Saunders and her 


42 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


husband were engaged in the effort to secure help with 
the boxes. Behind her lay the friendly ocean; ahead 
the gorgeous landscape, smiling down upon her with the 
green glow of poison in its sunny face, dark treachery in 
its heart. On the instant she realised that these people 
were her enemies, and that they were the real masters 
of the island, after all. She found herself wondering 
whether they meant to settle the question of ownership 
then and there, before she could so much as set her foot 
upon the coveted soil at the end of the pier. A hundred 
knives might hack her to pieces, but even as she shud- 
dered a rush of true British doggedness warmed her 
blood; after all, she was there to fight for her rights 
and she would stand her ground. Almost before she 
realised, the dominant air of superiority which charac- 
terises her nation, no matter whither its subjects may 
roam, crept out above her brief touch of timidity, and she 
found that she could stare defiantly into the swarthy 
ranks. 

“Is there no British agent here ?” she demanded impera- 
tively, perhaps a little more shrilly than usual. 

No one deigned to answer ; glances of indifference, even 
scorn, passed among the silent lookers-on, but that was 
all. It was more than her pride could endure. Her 
smooth cheeks turned a deeper pink and her blue eyes 
flashed. 

“Does no one here understand the English language ?“ 
she demanded. “I don’t mean you, Mr. Saunders,” she 
added sharply, as the little clerk set the suitcase down 
abruptly and stepped forward, again fumbling his much- 
fumbled straw hat. This was the moment when the red 
cocker’s tail came to grief. The dog arose with an 
astonished yelp and fled to his mistress; he had never 
been so outrageously set upon before in all his pampered 
life. Seizing the opportunity to vent her feelings upon 


THE ENGLISH INVADE 


one who could understand, even as she poured soothings 
upon the insulted Pong, whom she clasped in her arms, 
Lady Agnes transformed the unlucky Saunders into a 
target for a most ably directed volley of wrath. The 
shadow of a smile swept down the threatening row of 
dark faces. 

Lord Deppingham, a slow and cumbersome young man, 
stood by nervously fingering his eye-glass. For the first 
time he felt that the clerk was better than a confounded 
dog, after all. He surprised every one, his wife most 
of all, by coolly interfering, not particularly in defence 
of the clerk but in behalf of the Deppingham dignity. 

“My dear,” he said, waving Saunders into the back- 
ground, “I think it was an accident. The dog had no 
business going to sleep — ” he paused and inserted his 
monocle for the purpose of looking up the precise spot 
where the accident had occurred. 

“He wasn’t asleep,” cried his wife. 

“Then, my dear, he has positively no excuse to offer for 
getting his tail in the way of the bag. If he was awake 
and didn’t have sense enough ” 

“Oh, rubbish !” exclaimed her ladyship. “I suppose 
you expect the poor darling to apologise.” 

“All this has nothing to do with the case. We’re more 
interested in learning where we are and where we are to 
go. Permit me to have a look about.” 

His wife stared after him in amazement as he walked 
over to the canvas awning in front of the low dock build- 
ing, actually elbowing his way through a group of na- 
tives. Presently he came back, twisting his left mus- 
tache. 

“The fellow in there says that the English agent is 
employed in the bank. It’s straight up this street — 
by Jove, he called it a street, don’t you know,” he ex- 
claimed, disdainfully eyeing the narrow, dusty passage 


44 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

ahead. Here and there a rude house or shop stood di- 
rectly ahead in the middle of the thoroughfare, with 
happy disregard for effect or convenience. 

“There’s the British flag, my lord, just ahead. See 
the building to the right, sir?” said Mr. Saunders, more 
respectfully than ever and with real gratitude in his 
heart. 

“So it is ! That’s where he is. I wonder why he isn’t 
down here to meet us.” 

“Very likely he didn’t know we were coming,” said his 
wife icily. 

“Well, we’ll look him up. Come along, everybody — 
Oh, I say, we can’t leave this luggage unguarded. They 
say these fellows are the worst robbers east of London.” 

It was finally decided, after a rather subdued discus- 
sion, that Mr. Saunders should proceed to the bank and 
rout out the dilatory representative of the British Gov- 
ernment. Saunders looked down the sullen line of faces, 
and blanched to his toes. He hemmed and hawed and 
said something about his mother, which was wholly lost 
upon the barren waste that temporarily stood for a heart 
in Lord Deppingham’s torso. 

“Tell him we’ll wait here for him,” pursued his lord- 
ship. “But remind him, damn him, that it’s inexpressibly 
hot down here in the sun.” 

They stood and watched the miserable Saunders tread 
gingerly up the filth}' street, his knees crooking out- 
wardly from time to time, his toes always touching the 
ground first, very much as if he were contemplating an 
inctantaneous sprint in any direction but the one he was 
taking. Even the placid Deppingham was somewhat 
disturbed by the significant glances that followed their 
emissary as he passed by each separate knot of natives. 
He was distinctly dismayed when a dozen or more of the 
dark-faced watchers wandered slowly off after Mr. 


THE ENGLISH INVADE 


45 


Saunders. It was clearly observed that Mr. Saunders 
stepped more nimbly after he became aware of this fact. 

“I do hope Mr. Saunders will come back alive,” mur- 
mured Bromley, her ladyship’s maid. The others 
started, for she had voiced the general thought. 

“He won’t come back at all, Bromley, unless he comes 
back alive,” said his lordship with a smile. It was a 
well-known fact that he never smiled except when his 
mind was troubled. 

“Goodness, Deppy,” said his wife, recognising the 
symptom, “do you really think there is danger?” 

“My dear Aggy, who said there was any danger?” he 
exclaimed, and quickly looked out to sea. “I rather 
think we’ll enjoy it here,-' he added after a moment’s 
pause, in which he saw that the steamer was getting 
under way. The Japat company’s tug was returning to 
the pier. Lord Deppingham sighed and then drew forth 
his cigarette case. “There !” he went on, peering intently 
up the street. “Saunders is gone.” 

“Gone?” half shrieked her ladyship. 

“Into the bank,” he added, scratching a match. 

“Deppy,” she said after a moment, “I hope I was not 
too hard on the poor fellow.” 

“Perhaps you won’t be so nervous if you sit down and 
look at the sea,” he said gently, and she immediately 
knew that he suggested it because he expected a tragedy 
in the opposite direction. She dropped Pong without 
another word, and, her face quite serious, seated herself 
upon the big trunk which he selected. He sat down 
beside her, and together they watched the long line of 
smoke far out at sea. 

They expected every minute to hear the shouts of 
assassins and the screams of the brave Mr. Saunders. 
Their apprehensions were sensibly increased by the mys- 
terious actions of the half-naked loiterers. They 


46 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


seemed to consult among themselves for some time after 
the departure of the clerk, and then, to the horror of the 
servants, made off in various directions, more than one 
of them handling his ugly kris in an ominous manner. 
Bromley was not slow to acquaint his lordship with these 
movements. Deppingham felt a cold chill shoot up his 
spine, and he cleared his throat as if to shout after the 
disappearing steamer. But he maintained a brave front, 
or, more correctly, a brave back, for he refused to en- 
courage the maid’s fears by turning around. 

It was broiling hot in the sun, but no one thought of 
the white umbrellas. Saunders was the epitome of every 
thought. 

“Here he comes!” shouted the valet, joyously forget- 
ting his station. His lordship still stared at the sea. 
Lady Deppingham’s little jaws were shut tight and her 
fingers were clenched desperately in the effort to main- 
tain the proper dignity before her servants. 

“Your lordship,” said Mr. Saunders, three minutes 
later, “this is Mr. Bowles, his Majesty’s agent here. 
He is come with me to ” 

It was then and not until then that his lordship turned 
his stare from the sea to the clerk and his companion. 

“Aw,” he interrupted, “glad to see you, I’m sure. 
Would you be good enough to tell us how we are to reach 
the — er — chateau, and why the devil we can’t get any- 
body to move our luggage?” 

Mr. Bowles, who had lived in Japat for sixteen years, 
was a tortuously slow Englishman with the curse of the 
clime still growing upon him. He was half asleep quite 
a good bit of the time, and wholly asleep during the re- 
mainder. A middle-aged man was he, yet he looked 
sixty. He afterward told Saunders that it seemed to take 
two days to make one in the beastly climate ; that was why 
he was misled into putting off everything until the second 


THE ENGLISH INVADE 


47 


day. The department had sent him out long ago at 
the request of Mr. Wyckholme; he had lost the energy 
to give up the post. 

“Mr. — er — Mr. Saunders, my lord, has told me that 
you have been unable to secure assistance in removing 
your belongings — ” he began politely, but Deppingham 
interrupted him. 

“Where is the chateau? Are there no vans to be had?” 

“Everything is transferred by hand, my lord, and the 
chateau is two miles farther up the side of the mountain. 
It’s quite a walk, sir.” 

“Do you mean to say we are to walk?” 

“Yes, my lord, if you expect to go there.” 

“Of course, we expect to go there. Are there no 
horses on the beastly island?” 

“Hundreds, my lord, but they belong to the people and 
no one but their owners ride them. One can’t take them 
by the hour, you know. The servants at the chateau 
turned Mr. Skaggs’s horses out to pasture before they 
left.” 

“Before who left?” 

“The servants, my lord.” 

Lady Deppingham’s eyes grew wide with understand- 
ing. 

“You don’t mean to say that the servants have left the 
place?” she cried. 

“Yes, my lady. They were natives, you know.” 

“What’s that got to do with it?” demanded Depping- 
ham. 

“I’m afraid you don’t understand the situation,” said 
Mr. Bowles patiently. “You see, it’s really a triangular 
controversy, if I may be so bold as to say so. Lady Dep- 
pingham is one of the angles; Mr. Browne, the Ameri- 
can gentleman, is another; the native population is the 
last. Each wants to be the hypothenuse. While the 


48 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


interests of all three are merged in the real issue, there 

is, nevertheless, a decided disposition all around to irak* 
it an entirely one-sided affair.” 

“I don’t believe I grasp — ” muttered Deppingham 
blankly. 

“I see perfectly,” exclaimed his wife. “The natives are 
allied against us, just as we are, in a way, against them 
and Mr. Browne. Really, it seems quite natural, doesn’t 

it, dear?” turning to her husband. 

“Very likely, but very unfortunate. It leaves us to 
broil our brains out down here on this pier. I say, Mr. — 
er — old chap, can’t you possibly engage some sort of 
transportation for us? Really, you know, we can’t stand 
here all day.” 

“I’ve no doubt I can arrange it, my lord. If you will 
just wait here until I run back to the bank, I daresay 
I’ll find a way. Perhaps you’d prefer standing under 
the awning until I return.” 

The new arrivals glowered after him as he started off 
toward the bank. Then they moved over to the shelter 
of the awning. 

“Did he say he was going to run?” groaned his lord- 
ship. The progress of Bowles rivalled that of the his- 
toric tortoise. 

It was fully half an hour before he was seen coming 
down the street, followed by a score or more of natives, 
their dirty white i jbes flapping about their brown legs. 
At first they could not believe it was Bowles. Lord 
Deppingham had a sharp thrill of joy, but it was short- 
lived. Bowles had changed at least a portion of his garb ; 
he now wore the tight red jacket of the British trooper, 
while an ancient army cap was strapped jauntily over 
his ear. 

“It’s all right, my lord,” he said, saluting as he came 
up. “They will do anything I tell ’em to do when I 


THE ENGLISH INVADE 


49 


r sent the British army. This is the only uniform 
on : island, but they’ve been taught that there are more 
where this one came from. These fellows will carry your 
boxes up to the chateau, sixpence to the man, if you 
please, sir; and I’ve sent for two carts to draw your 
party up the slope. They’ll be here in a jiffy, my lady. 
You’ll find the drive a beautiful if not a comfortable 
one.” Then turning majestically to the huddled natives, 
he waved his slender stick over the boxes, big and little, 
and said : “Lively, now ! No loafing! Lively!” 

Whereupon the entire collection of boxes, bags and 
bundles figuratively picked itself up and walked off in 
the direction of the chateau. Bowles triumphantly 
saluted Lord and Lady Deppingham. The former had 
a longing look in his eye as he stared at Bowles and 
remarked : 

“I wish I had a troop of real Tommy Atkinses out 
here, by Jove.” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE CHATEAU 

The road to the chateau took its devious way through 
the little town — out into the green foothill beyond. Two 
lumbering, wooden wheeled carts, none too clean, each 
drawn b}" four perspiring men, served as conveyances by 
which the arrivals were to make the j ourney to their new 
home. Mr. Bowles informed his lordship that horses 
were not submitted to the indignity of drawing carts. 
The lamented Mr. Skaggs had driven his own Arab steeds 
to certain fashionable traps, but the natives never 
thought of doing such a thing. 

Lady Deppingham’s pert little nose lifted itself in dis- 
gust as she was joggled through the town behind the 
grunting substitutes for horseflesh. She sat beside her 
husband in the foremost cart. Mr. Bowles, very tired, 
but quite resplendent, walked dutifully beside one wheel ; 
Mr. Saunders took his post at the other. It might have 
been noticed that the latter cut a very different figure 
from that which he displayed on his first invasion of the 
street earlier in the day. The servants came along be- 
hind in the second cart. Far ahead, like hounds in full 
cry, toiled the unwilling luggage bearers. From the 
windows and doorways of every house, from the bazaars 
and cafes, from the side streets and mosque-approaches, 
the gaze of the sullen populace fastened itself upon the 
little procession. The town seemed ominously silent. 
Deppingham looked again and again at the red coat on 
the sloping shoulders of their guardian, and marvelled not 
a little at the vastness of the British dominion. He re- 
called his red hunting coat in one of the bags ahead, 
and mentally resolved to wear it on all occasions — 


THE CHATEAU 51 

perhaps going so far as to cut off its tails if 
necessary. 

At last they came to the end of the sunlit street and 
plunged into the shady road that ascended the slope 
through what seemed to be an absolutely unbroken 
though gorgeous jungle. The cool green depths looked 
most alluring to the sun-baked travellers ; they could al- 
most imagine that they heard the dripping of fountains, 
the gurgling of rivulets, so like paradise was the pros- 
pect ahead. Lady Agnes could not restrain her cries of 
delighted amazement. 

“It’s like this all over the island, your ladyship,” volun- 
teered Mr. Bowles, mopping his brow in a most unmili- 
tary way. “Except at the mines and back there in the 
town.” 

“Where are the mines?” asked Deppingham. 

“The company’s biggest mines are seven or eight miles 
eastward, as the crow flies, quite at the other side of the 
island. It’s very rocky over there and there’s no place 
for a landing from the sea. Everything is brought over- 
land to Aratat and placed in the vaults of the bank. Four 
times a year the rubies and sapphires are shipped to the 
brokers in London and Paris and Vienna. It’s quite a 
neat and regular arrangement, sir.” 

“But I should think the confounded natives would steal 
everything they got their hands on.” 

“What would be the use, sir? They couldn’t dispose 
of a single gem on the island, and nothing is taken away 
from here except in the company’s chests. Besides, my 
lord, these people are not thieves. They are absolutely 
honest. Smugglers have tried to bribe them, and the 
smugglers have never lived to tell of it. They may kill 
people occasionally, but they are quite honest, believe me. 
And, in any event, are they not a part of the great cor- 
poration? They have their share in the working of the 


52 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


mines and in the profits. Mr. Wyckholme and Mr. 
Skaggs were honest with them and they have been just 
as honest in return.” 

“Sounds very attractive,” muttered Deppingham 
sceptically. 

“I should think they’d be terribly tempted,” said Lady 
Agnes. “They look so wretchedly poor.” 

“They are a bit out at the knees,” said her husband, 
with a great laugh. 

“My lady,” said Bowles, “there are but four poor men 
on the island: myself and the three Englishmen who 
operate the bank. There isn’t a poor man, woman or 
child among the natives. This is truly a land of rich 
men. The superintendent of the mines is a white man — 
a German — and the three foremen are Boers. They work 
on shares just as the natives do and save even more, I 
think. The clerical force is entirely native. There were 
but ten white men here before you came, including two 
Greeks. There are no beggars. Perhaps you noticed 
that no one was asking for alms as you came up.” 

“ ’Gad, I should say we did,” exclaimed Deppingham 
ruefully. “There wasn’t even a finger held out to us. 
But is this a holiday on the island?” 

“A holiday, my lord?” 

“Yes. No one seems to be at work.” 

“Oh? I see. Being part owners the natives have de- 
cided that four hours constitutes a day’s work. They 
pay themselves accordingly, as it were. No one works 
after midday, sir.” 

“I say, wouldn’t this be a paradise for the English 
workingman?” said Deppingham. “That’s the kind of 
a day’s labor they’d like. Do you mean to say that these 
fellows trudge eight miles to work every morning and 
back again at noon?” 

“Certainly not, sir. They ride their thoroughbred 


THE CHATEAU 


53 


horses to work and ride them back again. It’s much bet- 
ter than omnibuses or horse cars, I’d say, sir — as I re- 
member them.” 

“You take my breath away,” said the other, lapsing 
into a stunned silence. 

The road had become so steep and laborious by this 
time that Bowles was very glad to forego the pleasure 
of talking. He fell back, with Mr. Saunders, and ul- 
timately both of them climbed into the already overloaded 
second cart, adding much to the brown man’s burden. 
After regaining his breath to some extent, the obliging 
Mr. Bowles, now being among what he called the 
lower classes, surreptitiously removed the tight-fitting red 
jacket, and proceeded to give the inquisitive lawyer’s 
clerk all the late news of the island. 

The inhabitants of Japat, standing upon their rights 
as part owners of the mines and as prospective heirs to 
the entire fortune of Messrs. Skaggs and Wyckholme, 
had been prompt to protect themselves in a legal sense. 
They had leagued themselves together as one interest and 
had engaged the services of eminent solicitors in London, 
who were to represent them in the final settlement of the 
estate. London was to be the battle ground in the com- 
ing conflict. A committee of three had journeyed to 
England to put the matter in the hands of these lawyers 
and were now returning to the island with a representa- 
tive of the firm, who was coming out to stand guard, so 
to speak. Von Blitz, the German superintendent, was the 
master mind in the native contingent. It was he who 
planned and developed the course of action. The ab- 
sent committee was composed of Ben Adi, Abdallah Ben 
Sabbat and Rasula, the Aratat lawyer. They were truly 
wise men from the East — old, shrewd, crafty and begot- 
ten of Mahomet. 

The mines continued to be operated as usual, pending 


54 . 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


the arrival of the executors’ representative, who, as we 
know, was now on the ground in the person of Thomas 
Saunders. The fact that he also served as legal adviser 
to Lady Deppingham was not of sufficient moment to 
disturb the arrangements on either side. Every one real- 
ised that he could have no opportunity to exercise a 
prejudice, if he dared to have one. Saunders blinked his 
eyes nervously when Bowles made this pointed ob- 
servation. 

As for the American heir, Robert Browne, he had not 
yet arrived. He was coming by steamer from the west, 
according to report, and was probably on the Boswell , 
Sumatra to Madagascar, due off Aratat in two or three 
days. Mr. Bowles jocosely inferred that it should be a 
very happy family at the chateau, with the English and 
American heirs ever ready to heave things at one another, 
regardless of propriety or the glassware. 

“The islanders,” said Mr. Bowles, lighting a cigarette, 
“it looks to me, have all the best of the situation. They 
get the property whether they marry or not, while the 
original beneficiaries have to marry each other or get off 
the island at the end of the year. Most of the islanders 
have got three or four wives already. I daresay the 
legators took that into consideration when they devised 
the will. Von Blitz, the German, has three and is talking 
of another.” 

“You mean to say that they can have as many wives 
as they choose?” demanded Saunders, wrinkling his brow. 

“Yes, just so long as they don’t choose anybody else’s.” 

Saunders was buried in thought for a long time, then 
he exclaimed, unconsciously aloud: 

“My word!” 

“Eh?” queried Bowles, arousing himself. 

“I didn’t say anything,” retorted Saunders, looking 
up into the tree tops. 


THE CHATEAU 


55 


In the course of an hour — a soft, sleepy hour, too, 
despite the wondrous novelty of the scene and the situa- 
tion — the travellers came into view of the now famous 
chateau. 

Standing out against the sky, fully a mile ahead, was the 
home to which they were coming. The chateau, beauti- 
ful as a picture, lifted itself like a dream castle above all 
that was earthly and sordid ; it smiled down from its lofty 
terrace and glistened in the sunset glow, like the jewel 
that had been its godmother. Long and low, scolloped 
by its gables, parapets and budding towers, the vast 
building gleamed red against the blue sky from one point 
of view and still redder against the green mountain from 
another. Soft, rich reds — not the red of blood, but of 
the unpolished ruby — seemed to melt softly in the eye 
as one gazed upward in simple wonder. The dream house 
of two lonely old men who had no place where they could 
spend their money ! 

According to its own records, the chateau, fashioned 
quite closely after a famous structure in France, was de- 
signed and built by La Marche, the ill-fated French 
architect who was lost at sea in the wreck of the Vendome. 
Three years and more than seven hundred thousand 
pounds sterling, or to make it seem more prodigious, 
nearly eighteen million francs, were consumed in its 
building. An army of skilled artisans had come out from 
France and Austria to make this quixotic dream a reality 
before the two old men should go into their dreamless 
sleep; to say nothing of the slaving, faithful islanders 
who laboured for love in the great undertaking. Spe- 
cially chartered ships had carried material and men to the 
island — and had carried the men away again, for not one 
of them remained behind after the completion of the 
job. 

There was not a contrivance or a convenience known to 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


56 

modern architecture that was not included in the con- 
struction of this latter-day shadow of antiquity. 

It was, to step on ahead of the story as politely as pos- 
sible, fully a week before Lord and Lady Deppingham 
realised all that their new home meant in the way of sci- 
entific improvement and, one might say, research. It 
was so spacious, so comprehensive of domain, so elab- 
orate, that one must have been weeks in becoming ac- 
quainted with its fastnesses, if that word may be em- 
ployed. To what uses Taswell Skaggs and John Wyck- 
holme could have put this vast, though splendid waste, 
the imagination cannot grasp. Apartments fit for a king 
abounded ; suites which took one back to the luxuries of 
Marie Antoinette were common ; banquet halls, ball rooms, 
reception halls, a chapel, and even a crypt were to be 
found if one undertook a voyage of discovery. Perhaps 
it is safe to say that none of these was ever used by the 
original owners, with the exception of the crypt ; John 
Wyckholme reposed there, alone in his dignity, undis- 
turbed by so little as the ghost of a tradition. 

The terrace, wide and beautiful, was the work of a fa- 
mous landscape gardener. Engineers had come out from 
England to install the most complete water and power 
plant imaginable. Not only did they bring water up 
from the sea, but they turned the course of a clear moun- 
tain stream so that it virtually ran through the pipes 
and faucets of the vast establishment. The fountains 
rivalled in beauty those at Versailles, though not so ex- 
tensive ; the artificial lake, while not built in a night, as 
one other that history mentions, was quite as attractive. 
Water mains ran through miles of the tropical forest and, 
no matter how great the drouth, the natives kept the ver- 
dure green and fresh with a constancy that no real wage- 
earner could have exercised. As to the stables, they might 
have aroused envy in the soul of any sporting monarch. 


THE CHATEAU 


57 


It was a palace, but they had called it a chateau, because 
Skaggs stubbornly professed to be democratic. The 
word palace meant more to him than chateau, although 
opinions could not have mattered much on the island of 
Japat. Inasmuch as he had not, to his dying day, solved 
the manifold mysteries of the structure, it is not surpris- 
ing that he never developed sufficient confidence to call it 
other than “the place.” 

Now and then, officers from some British man-of-war 
stopped off for entertainment in the chateau, and it was 
only on such occasions that Skaggs realised what a gor- 
geously beautiful home it was that he lived in. He had 
seen Windsor Castle in his youth, but never had he seen 
anything so magnificent as the crystal chandelier in his 
own hallway when it was fully lighted for the benefit of 
the rarely present guests. On the occasion of his first 
view of the chandelier in its complete glory, it is said that 
he walked blindly against an Italian table of solid mar- 
ble and was in bed for eleven days with a bruised hip. 
The polished floors grew to be a horror to him. He could 
not enumerate the times their priceless rugs had slipped 
aimlessly away from him, leaving him floundering in pro- 
fane wrath upon the glazed surface. The bare thought 
of crossing the great ballroom was enough to send him 
into a perspiration. He became so used to walking stiff- 
legged on the hardwood floors that it grew to be a habit 
which would not relax. The servants were authority for 
the report, that no earlier than the day before his death, 
he slipped and fell in the dining-room, and thereupon 
swore that he would have Portland cement floors put in 
before Christmas. 

Lord and Lady Deppingham, being first in the field, at 
once proceeded to settle themselves in the choicest rooms 
— a Henry the Sixth suite which looked out on the sea 
and the town as well. It is said that Wyckholme slept 


58 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


there twice, while Skaggs looked in perhaps half a dozen 
times — when he was lost in the building, and trying to 
find his way back to familiar haunts. 

There was not a sign of a servant about the house or 
grounds. The men whom Bowles had engaged, carried 
the luggage to the rooms which Lady Deppingham se- 
lected, and then vanished as if into space. They escaped 
while the new tenants were gorging their astonished, be- 
wildered eyes with the splendors of the apartment. 

“We’ll have to make the best of it,” sighed Depping- 
ham in response to his wife’s lamentations. “I daresay, 
Antoine and the maids can get our things into some sort 
of shape, my dear. What say to a little stroll about the 
grounds while they are doing it? By Jove, it would be 
exciting if we were to find a ruby or two. Saunders says 
they are as common as strawberries in July.” 

Mr. Bowles, who had resumed his coat of red, joined 
them in the stroll about the gardens, pointing out ob- 
jects of certain interest and telling the cost of each to the 
penny. 

“I can’t conduct you through the chateau,” he apolo- 
gised as they were returning after the short tour. “They 
can’t close the bank until I set the balance sheet, sir, and 
it’s now two hours past closing time. It doesn’t matter, 
however, my lord,” he added hastily, “we enjoy anything 
in the shape of a diversion.” 

“See here, Mr. — er — old chap, what are we to do about 
servants? We can’t get on without them, you know.” 

“Oh, the horses are being well cared for in the valley, 
sir. You needn’t worry a bit ” 

“Horses! What we want, is to be cared for ourselves. 
Damn the horses,” roared his lordship. 

“They say these Americans are a wonderful people, my 
lord,” ventured Mr. Bowles. “I daresay when Mr. and 
Mrs. Browne arrive, they’ll have some way of ” 


THE CHATEAU 


59 

“Browne!” cried her ladyship. “This very evening I 
shall give orders concerning the rooms they are to oc- 
cupy. And that reminds me : I must look the place over 
thoroughly before they arrive. I suppose, however, that 
the rooms we have taken are the best?” 

“The choicest, my lady,” said Bowles, bowing. 

“See here, Mr. — er — old chap, don’t you think you can 
induce the servants to come back to us? By Jove, I’ll 
make it worth your while. The place surely must need 
cleaning up a bit. It’s some months since the old — since 
Mr. Skaggs died.” He always said “Skaggs” after a 
scornful pause and in a tone as disdainfully nasal as it 
was possible for him to produce. 

“Not at all, my lord. The servants did not leave the 
place until your steamer was sighted this morning. It’s 
as clean as a pin.” 

“This morning?” 

“Yes, my lord. They would not desert the chateau until 
they were sure you were on board. They were extraordi- 
narily faithful.” 

“I don’t see it that way, leaving us like this. What’s to 
become of the place? Can’t I get an injunction, or what- 
ever you call it?” 

“What are we to do ?” wailed Lady Agnes, sitting down 
suddenly upon the edge of a fountain. 

“You see, my lady, they take the position that you have 
no right here,” volunteered Bowles. 

“How absurd! I am heir to every foot of this 
island ” 

“They are very foolish about it I’m sure. They’ve got 
the ridiculous idea into their noddles that you can’t be 
the heiress unless Lord Deppingham passes away inside 
of a year, and ” 

“I’m damned if I do !” roared the perspiring obstacle, 
“I’m not so obliging as that, let me tell you. If it comes 


60 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


to that, what sort of an ass do they think I’d be to come 
away out here to pass away? London’s good enough for 
any man to die in.” 

“You are not going to die, Deppy,” said his wife con- 
solingly. “Unless you starve to death,” she supple- 
mented with an expressive moue. % 

“I daresay you’ll find a quantity of tinned meats and 
vegetables in the storehouse, my lady. You can’t starve 
until the supply gives out. American tinned meats,” 
vouchsafed Mr. Bowles with his best English grimace. 

“Come along, Aggy,” said her liege lord resignedly. 
“Let’s have a look about the place.” 

Mr. Saunders met them at the grand entrance. He an- 
nounced that four of the native servants had been found, 
dead drunk, in the wine cellar. 

“They can’t move, sir. We thought they were dead.” 

“Keep ’em in that condition, f or the good Lord’s sake,” 
exclaimed Deppingham. “We’ll make sure of four ser- 
vants, even if we have to keep ’em drunk for six months.” 

“Good day, your lordship — my lady,” said Bowles, edg- 
ing away. “Perhaps I can intercede for you when their 
solicitor comes on. Lie’s due to-morrow, I hear. It is 
possible that he may advise at least a score of the ser- 
vants to return.” 

“Send him up to me as soon as he lands,” commanded 
Deppingham calmly. 

“Very good, sir,” said Mr. Bowles. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE BROWNES ARRIVE 

Contrary to all expectations, the Brownes arrived the 
next morning. The Deppinghams and their miserably 
frightened servants were scarcely out of bed when 
Saunders came in with the news that a steamer was 
standing off the shallow harbour. Bowles had telephoned 
up that the American claimant was on board. 

Lady Agnes and her husband had not slept well. They 
heard noises from one end of the night to the other, 
and they were most unusual noises at that. The maids 
had flatly refused to sleep in the servants’ wing, fully 
a block away, so they were given the next best suite of 
rooms on the floor, quite cutting off every chance the 
Brownes may have had for choice of apartments. Pong 
howled all night long, but his howls were as nothing 
compared to the screams of night birds in the trees 
close by. 

The deepest gloom pervaded the household when Lady 
Deppingham discovered that not one of their retinue 
knew how to make coffee or broil bacon. Not that she 
cared for bacon, but that his lordship always asked for 
it when they did not have it. The evening before they 
had philosophically dined on tinned food. She brewed a 
delightful tea, and Antoine opened three or four kinds 
of wine. Altogether it was not so bad. But in the 
morning! Everything looked different in the morning. 
Everything always does, one way or another. 

Bromley upset the last peg of endurance by hoping 
that the Americans were bringing a cook and a housemaid 
with them. 

“The Americans always travel like lords,” she con- 


62 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


eluded, forgetting that she served a lord, and not in the 
least intending to be ironical. 

“That will do, Bromley,” said her mistress sharply. 
“If they’re like most Americans I’ve seen they’ll have 
nothing but wet nurses and chauffeurs. I can’t eat this 
rile stuff.” She had already burned her fingers and 
dropped a slice of beechnut bacon on her sweet little 
morning gown. “Come on, Deppy ; let’s go up and watch 
the approach of the enemy.” 

' Dolefully they passed out of the culinary realm; it is 
of record that they never looked into it from that hour 
forth. On the broad, vine-covered gallery they sat in 
dour silence and in silence took turns with Deppy’s 
binoculars in the trying effort to make out what was 
going on in the offing. The company’s tug seemed un- 
usually active. It bustled about the big steamer with an 
industriousness that seemed almost frantic. The lazi- 
ness that had marked its efforts of the day before was 
amazingly absent. At last they saw it turn for the shore, 
racing inward with a great churning of waves and a 
vast ado in its smokestack. 

From their elevated position, the occupants of the gal- 
lery could see the distant pier. When the tug drew up 
to its moorings, the same motionless horde of white- 
robed natives lined up along the dock building. Trunks, 
boxes and huge crated objects were hustled off the boat 
with astonishing rapidity. Deppingham stared hard 
and unbelieving at this evidence of haste. 

Five or six strangers stood upon the pier, very much 
as their party had stood the day before. There were 
four women and — yes, two men. The men seemed to 
be haranguing the natives, although no gesticulations 
were visible. Suddenly there was a rush for the trunks 
and boxes and crates, and, almost before the Lady 
Agnes could catch the breath she had lost, the whole 


THE BROWNES ARRIVE 


63 


troupe was hurrying up the narrow street, luggage and 
all. The once-sullen natives seemed to be fighting for 
the privilege of carrying something. A half dozen of 
them dashed hither and thither and returned with great 
umbrellas, which they hoisted above the heads of the 
newcomers. Lady Agnes sank back, faint with wonder, 
as the concourse lost itself among the houses of the 
agitated town. 

Scarcely half an hour passed before the advance guard 
of the Browne company came into view at the park 
gates below. Deppingham recalled the fact that an 
hour and a half had been consumed in the accomplish- 
ment yesterday. He was keeping a sharp lookout for 
the magic red jacket and the Tommy Atkins lid. Quite 
secure from observation, he and his wife watched the 
forerunners with the hand bags ; then came the sweating 
trunk bearers and then the crated objects in — what? 
Yes, by the Lord Harry, in the very carts that had been 
their private chariots the day before! 

Deppingham’s wrath did not really explode until the 
two were gazing openmouthed upon Robert Browne and 
his wife and his maidservants and his ass — for that was 
the name which his lordship subsequently applied, with 
no moderation, to the unfortunate gentleman who served 
as Mr. Browne’s attorney. The Americans were being 
swiftly, cozily carried to their new home in litters of 
oriental comfort and elegance, fanned vigorously from 
both sides by eager boys. First came the Brownes, 
eager-faced, bright-eyed, alert young people, far better 
looking than their new enemies could conscientiously 
admit under the circumstances ; then the lawyer from the 
States ; then a pert young lady in a pink shirt waist and 
a sailor hat ; then two giggling, utterly un-English 
maids — and all of. them lolling in luxurious ease. The 
red jacket was conspicuously absent. 


64 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


It is not to be wondered at that his lordship looked at 
his wife, gulped in sympathy, and then said something 
memorable. 

Almost before they could realise what had happened, 
the newcomers were chattering in the spacious halls be- 
low, tramping about the rooms, and giving orders in 
high, though apparently efficacious voices. Trunks 
rattled about the place, barefooted natives shuffled up 
and down the corridors and across the galleries, quick 
American heels clattered on the marble stairways; and 
all this time the English occupants sat in cold silence, 
despising the earth and all that therein dwelt. 

Mr. and Mrs. Browne evidently believed in the demo- 
cratic first principles of their native land: they did not 
put themselves above their fellow-man. Close at their 
heels trooped the servants, all of whom took part in 
the discussion incident to fresh discoveries. At last they 
came upon the great balcony, pausing just outside the 
French windows to exclaim anew in their delight. 

“Great !” said the lawyer man, after a full minute. He 
was not at all like Mr. Saunders, who looked on from 
an obscure window in the distant left. “Finest I’ve ever 
seen. Isn’t it a picture, Browne?” 

“Glorious,” said young Mr. Browne, taking a long 
breath. The Deppinghams, sitting unobserved, saw that 
he was a tall, good-looking fellow. They were uncon- 
scionably amused when he suddenly reached out and took 
his wife’s hand in his big fingers. Her face was flushed 
with excitement, her eyes were wide and sparkling. She 
was very trim and cool-looking in her white duck ; more- 
over, she was of the type that looks exceedingly attractive 
in evening dress — at least, that was Deppingham’s in- 
nermost reflection. It was not until after many weeks 
had passed, however, that Lady Agnes admitted that 
Drusilla Browne was a very pretty young woman. 


THE BROWNES ARRIVE 65 

“Most American women are, after a fashion,” she then 
confessed to Deppingham, and not grudgingly. 

“What does Baedeker say about it, Bobby?” asked 
Mrs. Browne. Her voice was very soft and full — the 
quiet, well-modulated Boston voice and manner. 

“Baedeker?” whispered Deppingham, passing his hand 
over his brow in bewilderment. His wife was looking 
serenely in the opposite direction. 

The pert girl in the pink waist opened a small portfolio 
while the others gathered around her. She read there- 
from. The lawyer, when she had concluded, drew a 
compass from his pocket, and, walking over to the stone 
balustrade, set it down for observation. Then he 
pointed vaguely into what proved to be the southwest. 

“We must tell Lady Deppingham not to take the 
rooms at this end,” was the next thing that the listeners 
heard from Mrs. Browne’s lips. Her ladyship turned 
upon her husband with a triumphant sniff and a know- 
ing smile. 

“What did I tell you?” she whispered. “I knew 
they’d want the best of everything. Isn’t it lucky I 
pounced upon those rooms? They shan’t turn us out. 
You won’t let ’em, will you, Deppy?” 

“The impudence of ’em !” was all that Deppy could 
sputter. 

At that moment, the American party caught sight of 
the pair in the corner. For a brief space of time the 
two parties stared at each other, very much as the hunter 
and the hunted look when they come face to face without 
previous warning. Then a friendly, half-abashed smile 
lighted Browne’s face. He came toward the Depping- 
hams, his straw hat in his hand. His lordship retained 
his seat and met the smile with a cold stare of superiority. 

“I beg your pardon,” said Browne. “This is Lord 
Deppingham ?” 


66 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Ya-as,” drawled Deppy, with a look which was meant 
to convey the impression that he did not know who the 
deuce he was addressing. 

“Permit me to introduce myself. I am Robert Browne.” 
“Oh,” said Deppy, as if that did not convey anything 
to him. Then as an afterthought: “Glad to know you, 
I’m sure.” Still he did not rise, nor did he extend his 
hand. For a moment young Browne waited, a dull red 
growing in his temples. 

“Don’t you intend to present me to Lady Depping- 
ham?” he demanded bluntly, without taking his eyes 
from Deppy ’s face. 

“Oh — er — is that necess ” 

“Lady Deppingham,” interrupted Browne, turning 
abruptly from the man in the chair and addressing the 
lady in azure blue who sat on the balustrade, “I am 
Robert Browne, the man you are expected to marry. 
Please don’t be alarmed. You won’t have to marry me. 
Our grandfathers did not observe much ceremony in mat- 
ing us, so I don’t see why we should stand upon it in try- 
ing to convince them of their error. We are here for the 
same purpose, I suspect. We can’t be married to each 
other. That’s out of the question. But we can live to- 
gether as if we ” 

“Good Lord!” roared Deppy, coming to his feet in a 
towering rage. Browne smiled apologetically and lifted 
his hand. 

“ — as if we were serving out the prescribed period of 
courtship set down in the will. Believe me, I am very 
happily married, as I hope you are. The courtship, you 
will perceive, is neither here nor there. Please bear with 
me, Lord Deppingham. It’s the silly will that brings 
us together, not an affinity. Our every issue is identical, 
Lady Deppingham. Doesn’t it strike you that we will 
be very foolish if we stand alone and against each other?” 



“ ‘Don’t you intend to 

Deppingh 


present 
am ?’ ” 


me to Lady 
























THE BROWNES ARRIVE 


67 


“My solicitor — ” began Lady Deppingham, and then 
stopped. She was smiling in spite of herself. This 
frank, breezy way of putting it had not offended her, 
after all, much to her surprise. 

“Your solicitor and mine can get together and talk it 
over,” said Browne blandly. “We’ll leave it to them. 
I simply want you to know that I am not here for the 
purpose of living at swords’ points with you. I am 
quite ready to be a friendly ally, not a foe.” 

“Let me understand you,” began Deppingham, cooling 
off suddenly. “Do you mean to say that you are not 
going to fight us in this matter?” 

“Not at all, your lordship,” said Browne coolly. “I 
am here to fight Taswell Skaggs and John Wyckholme, 
deceased. I imagine, if you’ll have a talk with your 
solicitor, that that is precisely what you are here for, 
too. As next nearest of kin, I think both of us will 
run no risk if we smash the will. If we don’t smash it, the 
islanders will cheerfully take the legacy off our hands.” 

“By Jove,” muttered Deppy, looking at his wife. 

“Thank you, Mr. Browne, for being so frank with us,” 
she said coolly. “If you don’t mind, I will consult my 
solicitor.” She bowed ever so slightly, indicating that 
the interview was at an end, and, moreover, that it had 
not been of her choosing. 

“Any time, your ladyship,” said Browne, also bowing. 
“I think Mrs. Browne wants to speak to you about the 
rooms.” 

“We are quite settled, Mr. Browne, and very well satis- 
fied,” she said pointedly, turning red with a fresh touch 
of anger. 

“I trust you have not taken the rooms at this end.” 

“We have. We are occupying them.” She arose and 
started away, Deppingham hesitating between his duty 
to her and the personal longing to pull Browne’s nose. 


68 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Pm sorry,” said Browne. “We were warned not to 
take them. They are said to be unbearable when the 
hot winds come in October.” 

“What’s that?” demanded Deppingham. 

“The book of instruction and description which we 
have secured sets all that out,” said the other. “Mr. 
Britt, my attorney, had his stenographer take it all down 
in Bombay. It’s our private Baedeker, you see. 
We called on the Bombay agent for the Skaggs-Wyck- 
holme Company. He lived with them in this house 
for ten months. No one ever slept in this end of the 
building. It’s strange that the servants didn’t warn 
you.” 

“The da — the confounded servants left us yesterday 
before we came — every mother’s son of ’em. There isn’t 
a servant on the place.” 

“What? You don’t mean it?” 

“Are you coming?” called Lady Deppingham from 
the doorway. 

“At once, my dear,” replied Deppingham, shuffling un- 
easily. “By Jove, we’re in a pretty mess, don’t you 

know. No servants, no food, no ” 

“Wait a minute, please,” interrupted Browne. “I say, 
Britt, come here a moment, will you? Lord Depping- 
ham says the servants have struck.” 

The American lawyer, a chubby, red-faced man of 
forty, with clear grey eyes and a stubby mustache, 
whistled soulfully. 

“What’s the trouble? Cut their wages?” he asked. 
“Wages? My good man, we’ve never laid eyes on ’em,” 
said Deppingham, drawing himself up. 

“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Browne. Got to have cooks, 
eh, Lord Deppingham?” Without waiting for an an- 
swer he dashed off. His lordship observing that his wife 
had disappeared, followed Browne to the balustrade, 


THE BROWNES ARRIVE 


69 


overlooking the upper terrace. The native carriers were 
leaving the grounds, when Britt’s shrill whistle brought 
them to a standstill. No word of the ensuing conversa- 
tion reached the ears of the two white men on the bal- 
cony, but the pantomime was most entertaining. 

Britt’s stocky figure advanced to the very heart of the 
group. It was quite evident that his opening sentences 
were listened to impassively. Then, all at once, the na- 
tives began to gesticulate furiously and to shake their 
heads. Whereupon Britt pounded the palm of his left 
hand with an emphatic right fist, occasionally pointing 
over his shoulder with a stubborn thumb. At last, the 
argument dwindled down to a force of two — Britt and 
a tall, sallow Mohammedan. For two minutes they har- 
angued each other and then the native gave up in 
despair. The lawyer waved a triumphant hand to his 
friends and then climbed into one of the litters, to be 
borne off in the direction of the town. 

“He’ll have the servants back at work before two 
o’clock,” said Browne calmly. Deppingham was trans- 
fixed with astonishment. 

“How — how the devil do you — does he bring ’em to 
time like that?” he murmured. He afterward said that 
if he had had Saunders there at that humiliating mo- 
ment he would have kicked him. 

“They’re afraid of the American battleship,” said 
Browne. 

“But where is the American battleship?” demanded 
Deppingham, looking wildly to sea. 

“They understand that there will be one here in a day 
or two if we need it,” said Browne with a sly grin. 
“That’s the bluff we’ve worked.” He looked around for 
his wife, and, finding that she had gone inside, politely 
waved his hand to the Englishman and followed. 

At three o’clock, Britt returned with the recalcitrant 


70 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


servants — or at least the “pick” of them, as he termed 
the score he had chosen from the hundred or more. He 
seemed to have an Aladdin-like effect over the horde. 
It did not appear to depress him in the least that from 
among the personal effects of more than one peeped the 
ominous blade of a kris, or the clutch of a great revolver. 
He waved his hand and snapped his fingers and they 
herded into the servants’ wing, from which in a twinkling 
they emerged ready to take up their old duties. They 
were not a liveried lot, but they were swift and capable. 

Calmly taking Lord Deppingham and his following 
into his confidence, he said, in reply to their indignant 
remonstrances, later on in the day : 

“I know that an American man-o’-war hasn’t any right 
to fire upon British possessions, but you just keep quiet 
and let well enough alone. These fellows believe that the 
Americans can shoot straighter and with less pity than 
any other set of people on earth. If they ever find out 
the truth, we won’t be able to control ’em a minute. It 
won’t hurt you to let ’em believe that we can blow the 
island off the map in half a day, and they won’t believe 
you if you tell ’em anything to the contrary. They just 
simply know that I can send wireless messages and that a 
cruiser would be out there to-morrow if necessary, peg- 
ging away at these green hills with cannon balls so big 
that there wouldn’t be anything left but the horizon in 
an hour or two. You let me do the talking. I’ve got 
’em bluffed and I’ll keep ’em that way. Look at that! 
See those fellows getting ready to wash the front win- 
dows? They don’t need it, I’ll confess, but it makes con- 
versation in the servants’ hall.” 

Over in the gorgeous west wing, Lord Deppingham 
later on tried to convince his sulky little wife that the 
Americans were an amazing lot, after all. Bromley 
tapped at the door. 


THE BROWNES ARRIVE 


71 


“Tea is served in the hanging garden, my lady,” she 
announced. Her mistress looked up in surprise, red-eyed 
and a bit dishevelled. 

“The— the what?” 

“It’s a very pretty place just outside the rooms of the 
American lady and gentleman, my lady. It’s on the 
shady side and quite under the shelf of the mountain. 
There’s a very cool breeze all the time, they say, from 
the caverns.” 

Deppingham glanced at the sun-baked window ledges of 
their own rooms and swore softly. 

“Ask some one to bring the tea things in here, Brom- 
ley,” she said sternly, her piquant face as hard and set 
as it could possibly be — which, as a matter of fact, was 
not noticeably adamantine. “Besides, I want to give 
some orders. We must have system here, not American- 
isms.” 

“Very well, my lady.” 

After she had retired Deppingham was so unwise as 
to run his finger around the inside of his collar and utter 
the lamentation: 

“By Jove, Aggie, it is hot in these rooms.” She trans- 
fixed him with a stare. 

“I find it delightfully cool, George.” She called him 
George only when it was impossible to call him just 
what she wanted to. 

The tea things did not come in; in their stead came 
pretty Mrs. Browne. She stood in the doorway, a plead- 
ing sincere smile on her face. 

“Won’t you please join Mr. Browne and me in that 
dear little garden? It’s so cool up there and it must be 
dreadfully warm here. Really, you should move at once 
into Mr. Wyckholme’s old apartments across the court 
from ourg. They are splendid. But, now do come and 
have tea with us.” 


72 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


,y • 

Whether it was the English love of tea or the American 

girl’s method of making it, I do not know, but I am 
able to record the fact that Lord and Lady Deppingham 
hesitated ever so briefly and — fell. 

“Extraordinary, Browne,” said Deppingham^ half an 
hour later. “What wonders you chaps can perform.” 

“Ho, ho !” laughed Browne. “We only strive to land on 
our feet, that’s all. Another cigarette, Lady Depping- 
ham ?” 

‘Thank you. They are delicious. Where do you get 
them, Mr. Browne?” 

“From the housekeeper. Your grandfather brought 
them over from London. My grandfather stored them 
away.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’s 

It was quite forty-eight hours before the Deppinghams 
surrendered to the Brownes. They were obliged to hum- 
bly admit, in the seclusion of their own councils, that it 
was to the obnoxious but energetic Britt that they owed 
their present and ever-growing comfort. 

It is said that Mr. Saunders learned more law of a use- 
ful and purposeful character during his first week of con- 
sultation with Britt than he could have dreamed that the 
statutes of England contained. Britt’s brain was a whirl- 
pool of suggestions, tricks, subterfuges and — yes, wit- 
ticisms — that Saunders never even pretended to appre- 
ciate, although he was obliging enough to laugh at the 
right time quite as often as at the wrong. “He talks 
about what Dan Webster said, how Dan Voorhees could 
handle a jury, why Abe Lincoln and Andy Jackson were 
so — ” Saunders would begin in a dazzled sort of way. 

“Mr. Saunders, will you be good enough to ask Bromley 
to take Pong out for a walk?” her ladyship would inter- 
rupt languidly, and Saunders would descend to the re- 
quirements of his position. 

Late in the afternoon of the day following the advent 
of the Brownes, Lord and Lady Deppingham were la- 
boriously fanning themselves in the midst of their stifling 
Marie Antoinette elegance. 

“By Jove, Aggie, it’s too beastly hot here for words,” 
growled he for the hundredth time. “I think we’d better 
move into your grandfather’s rooms.” 

“Now, Deppy, don’t let the Brownes talk you into 
everything they suggest,” she complained, determined to 
be stubborn to the end. “They know entirely too much 


74 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


about the place already ; please don’t let them know you 
as intimately.” 

“That’s all very good, my dear, but you know quite as 
well as I that we made a frightful mistake in choosing 
these rooms. It is cooler on that side of the house. I’m 
not too proud to be comfortable, don’t you know. Have 
you had a look at your grandfather’s rooms?” 

She was silent for a long time, pondering. “No, I 
haven’t, Deppy, but I don’t mind going over there now 
with you — just for a look. We can do it without letting 
them see us, you know.” 

Just as they were ready to depart stealthily for the dis- 
tant wing, a servant came up to their rooms with a note 
from Mrs. Browne. It was an invitation to join the 
Americans at dinner that evening in the grand banquet 
hall. Across the bottom of Mrs. Browne’s formal little 
note, her husband had jauntily scrawled: “ Just to see 
how small we'll feel in a ninety by seventy dining-room .” 
Lady Deppingham flushed and her eyes glittered as she 
handed the note to her husband. 

“Rubbish !” she exclaimed. Paying no heed to the wist- 
ful look in his eyes or to the appealing shuffle of his foot, 
she sent back a dignified little reply to the effect that “A 
previous engagement would prevent, etc.” The polite lie 
made it necessary for them to venture forth at dinner 
time to eat their solitary meal of sardines and wafers in 
the grove below. The menu was limited to almost noth - 
ing because Deppy refused to fill his pockets with “tinned 
things and biscuit.” 

The next day they moved into the west wing, and that 
evening they had the Brownes to dine with them in the 
banquet hall. Deppingham awoke in the middle of the 
night with violent cramps in his stomach. He suffered 
in silence for a long time, but, the pain growing steadily 
worse, his stoicism gave way to alarm. A sudden thought 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


75 


broke in upon him, and with a shout that was almost a 
shriek he called for Antoine. The valet found him 
groaning and in a cold perspiration. 

“Don’t say a word to Lady Deppingham,” he grunted, 
sitting up in bed and gazing wildly at the ceiling, “but 
I’ve been poisoned. The demmed servants — ouch ! — 
don’t you know ! Might have known. Silly ass ! See 
what I mean? Get something for me — quick!” 

For two hours Antoine applied hot water bags and 
soothing syrups, and his master, far from dying as he 
continually prophesied, dropped off into a peaceful sleep. 

The next morning Deppingham, fully convinced that 
the native servants had tried to poison him , inquired of 
his wife if she had felt the alarming symptoms. She 
confessed to a violent headache, but laid it to the cham- 
pagne. Later on, the rather haggard victim approached 
Browne with subtle inquiries. Browne also had a head- 
ache, but said he w r asn’t surprised. Fifteen minutes later, 
Deppingham, taking the bit in his quivering mouth, un- 
conditionally discharged the entire force of native ser- 
vants. He was still in a cold perspiration when he sent 
Saunders to tell his wife what he had done and what a 
narrow escape all of them had had from the treacherous 
Moslems. 

Of course, there was a great upheaval. Lady Agnes 
came tearing down to the servants’ hall, followed directly 
by the Brownes and Mr. Britt. The natives were ready 
to depart, considerably nonplussed, but not a little 
relieved. 

“Stop !” she cried. “Deppy, what are you doing? Dis- 
charging them after we’ve had such a time getting them? 
Are you crazy?” 

“They’re a pack of snakes — I mean sneaks. They’re 
assassins. They tried to poison every one of us last ” 

“Nonsense ! You ate too much. Besides, what’s the 


76 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


odds between being poisoned and being starved to death? 
Where is Mr. Britt?” She gave a sharp cry of relief as 
Britt came dashing down the corridor. “We must engage 
them all over again,” she lamented, after explaining the 
situation. “Stand in the door, Deppy, and don’t let them 
out until Mr. Britt has talked with them,” she called to 
the disgraced nobleman. 

“They won’t stop for me,” he muttered, looking at the 
half-dozen krises that were visible. 

Britt smoothed the troubled waters with astonishing 
ease ; the servants returned to their duties, but not with- 
out grumbling and no end of savage glances, all of which 
were levelled at the luckless Deppingham. 

“By Jove, you’ll see, sooner or later,” he protested, like 
the schoolboy, almost ready to hope that the servants 
would bear him out by doling out ample quantities of 
strychnine that very night. 

“Why poison?” demanded Britt. “They’ve got knives 
and guns, haven’t they?” 

“My dear man, that would put them to no end of 
trouble, cleaning up after us,” said Deppingham, loftily. 

The next day the horses were brought in from the val- 
ley, and the traps were put to immediate use. A half- 
dozen excursions were planned by the now friendly bene- 
ficiaries; life on the island, aside from certain legal re- 
straints, began to take on the colour of a real holiday. 

Two lawyers, each clever in his own way, were watching 
every move with the faithfulness of brooding hens. Both 
realised, of course, that the great fight would take place 
in England; they w^ere simply active as outposts in the 
battle of wits. They posed amiably as common allies in 
the fight to keep the islanders from securing a single 
point of vantage during the year. 

“If they hadn’t been in such a hurry to get married,” 
Britt would lament. 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


77 


“Do you know, I don’t believe a man should marry be-* 
fore he’s thirty, a woman twenty-six,” Saunders would 
observe in return. 

“You’re right, Saunders. I agree with you. I was mar- 
ried twice before I was thirty,” reflected Britt on one 
occasion. 

“Ah,” sympathised Saunders. “You left a wife at A 
home, then?” 

“Two of ’em,” said Britt, puffing dreamily. “But they 
are other men’s wives now.” Saunders was half an hour 
grasping the fact that Britt had been twice divorced. 

Meanwhile, it may be well to depict the situation from 
the enemy’s point of view — the enemy being the islanders 
as a unit. They were prepared to abide by the terms of 
the will so long as it remained clear to them that fair 
treatment came from the opposing interests. Rasula, the 
Aratat lawyer, in mass meeting, had discussed the docu- 
ment. They understood its requirements and its restric- 
tions ; they knew, by this time, that there was small chance 
of the original beneficiaries coming into the property un- 
der the provisions. Moreover, they knew that a bitter ef- 
fort would be made to break this remarkable instrument 
in the English courts. Their attitude, in consequence, 
toward the grandchildren of their former lords was inim- 
ical, to say the least. 

“We can afford to wait a year,” Rasula had said in an- 
other mass meeting after the two months of suspense 
which preceded the discovery that grandchildren really 
existed. “There is the bare possibility that they may 
never marry each other,” he added sententiously. Later 
came the news that marriage between the heirs was out 
of the question. Then the islanders laughed as they 
toiled. But they were not to be caught napping. Jacob 
von Blitz, the superintendent, stolid German that he was, 
saw far into the future. It was he who set the native 


78 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


lawyer unceremoniously aside and urged competent rep- 
resentation in London. The great law firm headed by 
Sir J ohn Brodney was chosen ; a wide-awake representa- 
tive of the distinguished solicitors was now on his way to 
the island with the swarthy committee w r hich had created 
so much interest in the metropolis during its brief stay. 

Jacob von Blitz came to the island when he was twenty 
years old. That was twenty years before the death of 
Taswell Skaggs. He had worked in the South African 
diamond fields and had no difficulty in securing employ- 
ment with Skaggs and Wyckholme. Those were the days 
when the two Englishmen slaved night and day in the 
mines; they needed white men to stand beside them, for 
they looked ahead and saw what the growing discontent 
among the islanders was sure to mean in the end. 

Yon Blitz gradually lifted labour and responsibility 
from their shoulders ; he became a valued man, not alone 
because of his ability as an overseer, but on account of 
the influence he had gained over the natives. It was he 
who acted as intermediary at the time of the revolt, many 
years before the opening of this tale. Through him 
the two issues were pooled ; the present co-operative plan 
was the result. For this he was promptly accepted by 
both sides as deserving of a share corresponding to that 
of each native. From that day, he cast his lot with the 
islanders ; it was to him that they turned in every hour 
of difficulty. 

Von Blitz was shrewd enough to see that the grandchil- 
dren were not coming to the island for the mere pleasure 
of sojourning there; their motive was plain. It was he 
who advised — even commanded — the horde of servants to 
desert the chateau. If they had been able to follow his 
advice, the new residents would have been without “help” 
to the end of their stay v The end of their stay, he fig- 
ured, would not be many weeks from its beginning if they 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


79 


were compelled to dwell there without the luxury of ser- 
vants. Bowles often related the story (Y Yon Blitz’s rage 
when he found that the recalcitrants had been persuaded 
to resume work by the American lawyer. 

He lived, with his three wives, in the hills just above 
and south of the town itself. The Englishmen who 
worked in the bank, and the three Boer foremen also, had 
houses up there where it was cooler, but Yon Blitz was 
the only one who practised polygamy. His wives were 
Persian women and handsome after the Persian fashion. 

There were many Persian, Turkish and Arabian women 
on the island, wives of the more potential men. It was 
no secret that they had been purchased from avaricious 
masters on the mainland, in Bagdad and Damascus and 
the Persian gulf ports — sapphires passing in exchange. 
Marriages were performed by the local priests. There 
were no divorces. Perhaps there may have been a few 
more wife murders than necessary, but, if one assumes to 
call wife murder a crime, he must be reminded that the 
natives of Japat were fatalists. In contradiction to this 
belief, however, it is related that one night a wife took 
it upon herself to reverse the lever of destiny: she slew 
her husband. That, of course, was a phase of fatalism 
that was not to be tolerated. The populace burned her at 
* a stake before morning. 

One hot, dry afternoon about a week after the reopen- 
ing of the chateau, the siesta of a swarthy population 
was disturbed by the shouts of those who kept impatient 
watch of the sea. Five minutes later the whole town of 
Aratat knew that the smoke of a steamer lay low on the 
horizon. No one doubted that it came from the stack of 
the boat that was bringing Rasula and the English solici- 
tor. Joy turned to exultation when the word came down 
from Von Blitz that it was the long-looked-for steamship, 
the Sir Joshua. 


80 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


Just before dusk the steamer, flying the British colours, 
hove to off* the town of Aratat and signalled for the com- 
pany’s tug. There was no one in Aratat too old, too 
young or too ill to stay away from the pier and its vi- 
cinity. Bowles telephoned the news to the chateau, and 
the occupants, in no little excitement, had their tea served 
on the grand colonnade overlooking the town. 

Yon Blitz stood at the landing place to welcome Rasula 
and his comrades, and to be the first to clasp the hand 
of the man from London. For the first time in his life 
his stolidity gave way to something resembling exhilara- 
tion. He cast more than one meaning glance at the 
chateau, and those near by him heard him chuckle from 
time to time. The horde of natives seethed back and 
forth as the tug came running in ; every eye was strained 
to catch the first glimpse of — Rasula? No ! Of the man 
from Brodney’s! 

At last his figure could be made out on the forward deck. 
His straw hat was at least a head higher than the turban 
of Rasula, who was indicating to him the interesting 
spots in the hills. 

“He’s big,” commented Von Blitz, comfortably, more 
to himself than to his neighbour. “And young,” he 
added a few minutes later. Bowles, standing at his side, 
offered the single comment: 

“Good-looking.” 

As the tall stranger stepped from the boat to the pier, 
Von Blitz suddenly started back, a look of wonder in his 
s °ggy eyes. Then, a thrill of satisfaction shot through 
his brain. He turned a look of triumph upon Britt, who 
had elbowed through the crowd a moment before and was 
standing close by. 

The newcomer was an American ! 


CHAPTER IX 


THE ENEMY 

“I’ve sighted the Enemy,” exclaimed Bobby Browne, 
coming up from Neptune’s Pool — the largest of the 
fountains. His wife and Lady Deppingham were sit- 
ting in the cool retreat under the hanging garden. 
“Would you care to have a peek at him?” 

“I should think so,” said his wife, jumping to her feet. 
“He’s been on the island three days, and we haven’t had 
a glimpse of him. Come along, Lady Deppingham.” 

Lady Deppingham arose reluctantly, stifling a yawn. 

“I’m so frightfully lazy, my dear,” she sighed. “But,” 
with a slight acceleration of speech, “anything in the shape 
of diversion is worth the effort, I’m sure. Where is he?” 

They had come to call the new American lawyer “The 
Enemy.” No one knew his name, or cared to know it, for 
that matter. Bowles, in answer to the telephone in- 
quiries of Saunders, said that the new solicitor had taken 
temporary quarters above the bank and was in hourly 
consultation with Von Blitz, Rasula and others. Much 
of his time was spent at the mines. Later on, it was com- 
monly reported, he was to take up his residence in 
Wyckholme’s deserted bungalow, far up on the mountain 
side, in plain view from the chateau. 

Life at the chateau had not been allowed to drag. The 
Deppinghams and the Brownes confessed in the privacy 
of their chambers that there was scant diplomacy in their 
“carryings-on,” but without these indulgences the days 
and nights would have been intolerable. 

The white servants had become good friends, despite 
the natural disdain that the trained English expert feels 
for the unpolished American domestic. Antipathies 


82 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


were overlooked in the eager strife for companionship; 
the fact that one of Mrs. Browne’s maids was of Irish 
extraction and the other a rosy Swede may have had 
something to do with their admission into the exclusive 
set below stairs, but that is outside the question. If the 
Suffolk maids felt any hesitancy about accepting the 
hybrid combination as their equals, it was never mani- 
fested by word or deed. Even the astute Antoine, who 
had lived long in the boulevards of Paris, and who there- 
fore knew an American when he saw one at any dis- 
tance or at any price, evinced no uncertainty in pro- 
claiming them Americans. 

Miss Pelham, the stenographer from West Twenty-third 
Street, might have been included in the circle from the 
first had not her dignity stood in the way. For six days 
she held resolutely aloof from everything except her note- 
book and her machine, but her stock of novels beginning 
to run low, and the prospect of being bored to extinction 
for six months to come looming up before her, she con- 
cluded to wave the olive branch in the face of social 
ostracism, assuming a genial attitude of condescension, 
which was graciously overlooked by the others. As she 
afterward said, there is no telling how low she might have 
sunk, had it not entered her head one day to set her cap 
for the unsuspecting Mr. Saunders. She had learned, 
in the wisdom of her sex, that he was fancy free. Mr. 
Saunders, fully warned against the American typewriter 
girl as a class, having read the most shocking jokes at 
her expense in the comic papers, was rather shy at the 
outset, but Britt gallantly came to Miss Pelham’s de- 
fence and ultimate rescue by emphatically assuring 
Saunders that she was a perfect lady, guaranteed to 
cause uneasiness to no man’s wife. 

“But I have no wife,” quickly protested Saunders, turn- 
ing a dull red. 


THE ENEMY 


83 


“The devil !” exclaimed Britt, apparently much upset by 
the revelation. 

But of this more anon. 

* * * * * 

Browne conducted the two young women across the 
drawbridge and to the sunlit edge of the terrace, where 
two servants awaited them with parasols. 

“Isn’t it extraordinary, the trouble one is willing to 
take for the merest glimpse of a man?” sighed Lady 
Agnes. “At home we try to avoid them.” 

“Indeed?” said pretty Mrs. Browne, with a slight touch 
of irony. It was the first sign of the gentle warfare 
which their wits were to wage. 

“There he is! See him?” almost whispered Browne, as 
if the solitary, motionless figure at the foot of the avenue 
was likely to hear his voice and be frightened away. 

The Enemy was sitting serenely on one of the broad 
iron benches just inside the gates to the park, his arms 
stretched out along the back, his legs extended and 
crossed. The great stone wall behind him afforded shel- 
ter from the broiling sun; satin wood trees lent an ap- 
pearance of coolness that did not exist, if one were to 
judge by the absence of hat and the fact that his soft 
shirt was open at the throat. He was not more than 
two hundred yards away from the clump of trees which 
screened his watchers from view. If he caught an oc- 
casional glimpse of dainty blue and white fabrics, he 
made no demonstration of interest or acknowledgment. 
It was quite apparent that he was lazily surveying the 
chateau, puffing with consistent ease at the cigarette 
which drooped from his lips. His long figure was at- 
tired in light grey flannels ; one could not see the stripe 
at that distance, yet one could not help feeling that it 
existed — a slim black stripe, if any one should have 
asked. 


84 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Quite at home,” murmured her ladyship, which was 
enough to show that she excused the intruder on the 
ground that he was an American. 

“Mr. Britt was right,” said Mrs. Browne irrelevantly. 
She was peering at the stranger through the binoculars. 
“He is very good-looking.” 

“And you from Boston, too,” scoffed Lady Depping- 
ham. Mrs. Browne flushed, and smiled deprecatingly. 

“Wonder what he’s doing here in the grounds?” puz- 
zled Browne. 

“It’s plain to me that he is resting his audacious bones,” 
said her ladyship, glancing brightly at her co-legatee. 
The latter’s wife, in a sudden huff, deliberately left them, 
crossing the macadam driveway in plain view of the 
stranger. 

“She’s not above an affair with him,” was her hot, in- 
ward lament. She was mightily relieved, however, when 
the others tranquilly followed her across the road, and 
took up a new position under the substitute clump of 
trees. 

The Enemy gave no sign of interest in these proceed- 
ings. If he was conscious of being watched by these 
curious exiles, he was not in the least annoyed. He did 
not change his position of indolence, nor did he puff any 
more fretfully at his cigarette. Instead, his eyes were 
bent lazily upon the white avenue, his thoughts appar- 
ently far away from the view ahead. He came out 
of his lassitude long enough to roll and light a fresh 
cigarette and to don his wide madras helmet. 

Suddenly he looked to the right and then arose with 
some show of alacrity. Three men were approaching by 
the path which led down from the far-away stables. 
Browne recognised the dark-skinned men as servants in 
the chateau — the major-domo, the chef, and the master 
of the stables. 


THE ENEMY 


85 


“Lord Deppingham must have sent them down to pitch 
him over the wall,” he said, with an excited grin. 

“Impossible! My husband is hunting for sapphires in 
the ravine back of — ” She did not complete the sentence. 

The Enemy was greeting the statuesque natives with a 
friendliness that upset all calculations. It was evident 
that the meeting was prearranged. There was no at- 
tempt at secrecy; the conference, whatever its portent, 
had the merit of being quite above-board. In the end, 
the tall solicitor, lifting his helmet with a gesture so 
significant that it left no room for speculation, turned 
and sauntered through the broad gateway and out into 
the forest road. The three servants returned as the} 7 
had come, by way of the bridle path along the wall. 

“The nerve of him !” exclaimed Browne. “That grace- 
ful attention was meant for us.” 

“He is like the polite robber who first beats you to death 
and then says thank you for the purse,” said Lady Dep- 
pingham. “What a strange proceeding, Mr. Browne. 
Can you imagine what it means?” 

“Mischief of some sort, I’ll be bound. I admire his 
nerve in holding the confab under our very noses. I’ll 
have Britt interview those fellows at once. Our kitchen, 
our stable and our domestic discipline are threatened.” 

They hastened to the chateau, and regaled the re- 
sourceful Britt with the disquieting news. 

“I’ll have it out of ’em in a minute,” he said confidently. 
“Where’s Saunders? Where’s Miss Pelham? Confound 
the girl, she’s never around when I want her these days. 
Hay, you !” to a servant. “Send Miss Pelham to me. 
The one in pink, understand? Golden-haired one. Yes, 
yes, that’s right: the one who jiggles her fingers. Tell 
her to hurry.” 

But Miss Pelham was off in the wood, self-charged with 
the arousing of Mr. Saunders ; an hour passed before she 


86 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


could be found and brought into the light of Mr. Britt’s 
reflections. If her pert nose was capable of elevating it- 
self in silent disdain, Mr. Saunders was not able to emu- 
late its example. He was not so dazzled by the sunshine 
of her sprightly recitals but that he could look sheep- 
faced in the afterglow of Britt’s scorn. 

Britt, with all his clever blustering, could elicit no in- 
formation from the crafty head-servants. All they 
would say was that the strange sahib had intercepted 
them on their way to the town, to ask if there were any 
rooms to rent in the chateau. 

“That’s what he told you to say, isn’t it?” demanded Britt 
angrily. “Confounded his impudence! Rooms to rent!” 

That evening he dragged the reluctant Saunders into 
the privacy of the hanging garden, and deliberately in- 
terrupted the game of bridge which was going on. If 
Deppingham had any intention to resent the intrusion of 
the solicitors, he was forestalled by the startling an- 
noucement of Mr. Britt, who seldom stood on ceremony 
where duty was concerned. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Mr. Britt, calmly drop- 
ping into a chair near by, “this place is full of spies.” 

“Spies !” cried four voices in unison. Mr. Saunders 
nodded a plaintive apology. 

“Yes, sir, every native servant here is a spy. That’s 
what the Enemy was here for to-day. I’ve analysed the 
situation and I’m right. Ain’t I, Mr. Saunders? Of 
course, I am. He came here to tell ’em what to do and 
how to report our affairs to him. See? Well, there you 
are. We’ve simply got to be careful what we do and say 
in their presence. Leave ’em to me. Just be careful, 
that’s all.” 

“I don’t intend to be watched by a band of sneaks — ” 
began Lord Deppingham loftily. 

“You can’t help yourself,” interrupted Britt. 


THE ENEMY 


87 


“I’ll discharge every demmed one of them, that’s ” 

“Leave ’em to me — leave ’em to me,” exclaimed Britt 
impatiently. His lordship stiffened but could find no 
words for instant use. “Now let me tell you something. 
This lawyer of theirs is a smooth party. He’s here to 
look out for their interests and they know it. It’s not 
to their interest to assassinate you or to do any open 
dirty work. He is too clever for that. I’ve found out 
from Mr. Bowles just what the fellow has done since he 
landed, three days ago. He has gone over all of the 
company’s accounts, in the office and at the mines, to 
see that we, as agents for the executors, haven’t put up 
any job to mulct the natives out of their share of the 
profits. He has organised the whole population into a 
sort of constabulary to protect itself against any shrewd 
move we may contemplate. Moreover, he’s getting the 
evidence of everybody to prove that Skaggs and Wyck- 
holme were men of sound mind up to the hour of their 
death. He has the depositions of agents and dealers 
in Bombay, Aden, Suez and three or four European 
cities, all along that line. He goes over the day’s busi- 
ness at the bank as often as we do as agents for the 
executors. He knows just how many rubies and sap- 
phires were washed out yesterday, and how much they 
weigh. It’s our business, as your agents, to scrape up 
everything as far back as we can go to prove that the 
old chaps were mentally off their base when they drew 
up that agreement and will. I think we’ve got a shade 
the best of it, even though the will looks good. The im- 
pulse that prompted it was a crazy one in the first place.” 
He hesitated a moment and then went on carefully. “Of 
course, if we can prove that insanity has always run 

through the two families it ” 

“Good Lord !” gasped Browne nervously. 

“ — it would be a great J^lp. If we can show that you 


88 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


and Mrs. — er — Lady Deppingham have queer spells 
occasionally, it ” 

“Not for all the islands in the world,” cried Lady Dep- 
pingham. “The idea ! Queer spells ! See here, Mr. 
Britt, if I have any queer spells to speak of, I won’t 
have them treated publicly. If Lord Deppingham can 
afford to overlook them, I daresay I can, also, even 
though it costs me the inheritance to do so. Please be 
good enough to leave me out of the insanity dodge, as 
you Americans call it.” 

“Madam, God alone provides that part of your in- 
heritance — ” began Britt insistently, fearing that he was 
losing fair ground. 

“Then leave it for God to discover. I’ll not be a party 
to it. It’s utter nonsense,” she cried scathingly. 

“Rubbish !” asserted Mr. Saunders boldly. 

“What?” exclaimed Britt, turning upon Saunders so 
abruptly that the little man jumped, and immediately 
began to readjust his necktie. “What’s that? Look here ; 
it’s our only hope — the insanity dodge, I mean. They’ve 
got to show in an English court that Skaggs and ” 

“Let them show what they please about Skaggs,” inter- 
rupted Bobby Browne, “but, confound you, I can’t have 
any one saying that I’m subject to fits or spells or what- 
ever you choose to call ’em. I don’t have ’em, but even 
if I did, I’d have ’em privately, not for the benefit of 
the public.” 

“Is it necessary to make my husband insane in order 
to establish the fact that his grandfather was not of 
sound mind?” queried pretty Mrs. Browne, with her calm- 
est Boston inflection. 

“It depends on your husband,” said Britt coolly. “If 
he sticks at anything which may help us to break that 
will, he’s certainly insane. That’s all I’ve got to say 
about it.” 


THE ENEMY 


89 


“Well, I’m hanged if I’ll pose as an insane man,” roared 
Browne. 

“Mr. Saunders hasn’t asked me to be insane, have you, 
Mr. Saunders?” asked Lady Agnes in her sweetest scorn. 

“I don’t apprehend — ” began Saunders nervously. 

“Saunders,” said Britt, calculatingly and evenly, “next 
thing we’ll have to begin hunting for insanity in your 
family. We haven’t heard anything from you on this 
little point, Lord Deppingham.” 

“I don’t know anything about Mr. Saunders’s family,” 
said Deppingham stiffly. Britt looked at him for a 
moment, puzzled and uncertain. Then he gave a short, 
hopeless laugh and said, under his breath: 

“Holy smoke!” 

He immediately altered the course of the discussion and 
harked back to his original declaration that spies 
abounded in the chateau. When he finally called the 
conference adjourned and prepared to depart, he calmly 
turned to the stenographer. 

“Did you get all this down, Miss Pelham?” 

“Yes, Mr. Britt.” 

“Good!” Then he went away, leaving the quartette 
unconsciously depressed by the emphasis he placed upon 
that single word. 

The next day but one, it was announced that the Enemy 
had moved into the bungalow. Signs of activity about 
the rambling place could be made out from the hanging 
garden at the chateau. It was necessary, however, to 
employ the binoculars in the rather close watch that was 
kept by the interested aristocrats below. From time to 
time the grey, blue or white-clad figure of the Enemy 
could be seen directing the operations of the natives who 
were engaged in rehabilitating Wyckholme’s “nest.” 

The chateau was now under the very eye of the Enemy. 


CHAPTER X 


THE AMERICAN BAR 

“You’re wanted at the ’phone, Mr. Britt,” said Miss 
Pelham. It was late in the evening a day or two after- 
ward. Britt went into the booth. He was not in there 
long, but when he came out he found that Miss Pelham 
had disappeared. The coincidence was significant ; Mr. 
Saunders was also missing from his seat on the window- 
sill at the far end of the long corridor. Britt looked his 
disgust, and muttered something characteristic. Having 
no one near with whom he could communicate, he boldly 
set off for the hanging garden, where Deppingham had 
installed the long-idle roulette paraphernalia. The quar- 
tette were placing prospective rubies and sapphires on 
the board, using gun-wads in lieu of the real article. 

Britt’s stocky figure came down through the maze of 
halls, across the vine-covered bridge and into the midst 
of a transaction which involved perhaps a hundred thou- 
sand pounds in rubies. 

“Say,” he said, without ceremony, “the Enemy’s in 
trouble. Bowles just telephoned. There’s a lot of ex- 
citement in the town. I don’t know what to make of it.” 

“Then why the devil are you breaking in here with 
it?” growled Deppingham, who was growing to hate 
Britt with an ardour that was unmanageable. 

“This’ll interest you, never fear. There’s been a row 
between Von Blitz and the lawyer, and the lawyer has 
unmercifully threshed Von Blitz. Good Lord, I’d like 
to have seen it, wouldn’t you, Browne? Say, he’s all 
right, isn’t he?” 

“What was it all about?” demanded Browne. They 
were now listening, all attention. 


THE AMERICAN BAR 


91 


“It seems that Von Blitz is in the habit of licking his 
wives,” said Britt. “Bowles was so excited he could 
hardly talk. It must have been awful if it could get 
Bowles really awake.” 

“Miraculous!” said Deppingham conclusively. 

“Well, as I get it, the lawyer has concluded to advance 
the American idiosyncrasy known as reform. It’s a 
habit with us, my lady. We’ll try to reform heaven if 
enough of us get there to form a club. Von Blitz beats 
his Persian wives instead of his Persian rugs, therefore 
he needed reforming. Our friend, the Enemy, met him 
this evening, and told him that no white man could beat 
his wife, singular or plural, while he was around. Von 
Blitz is a big, ugly chap, and he naturally resented the 
interference with his divine might. He told the lawyer 
to go hang or something equivalent. The lawyer 
knocked him down. By George, I’d like to have seen 
it ! From the way Bowles tells it, he must have knocked 
him down so incessantly in the next five minutes that Von 
Blitz’s attempts to stand up were nothing short of a 
stutter. Moreover, he wouldn’t let Von Blitz stab him 
worth a cent. Bowles says he’s got Von Blitz cowed, and 
the whole town is walking in circles, it’s so dizzy. Von 
Blitz’s wives threaten to kill the lawyer, but I guess they 
won’t. Bowles says that all the Persian and Turkish 
women on the island are crazy about the fellow.” 

“Mr. Britt !” protested Mrs. Browne. 

“Beg pardon. Perhaps Bowles is wrong. Well, to make 
it short, the lawyer has got Von Blitz to hating him 
secretly, and the German has a lot of influence over the 
people. It may be uncomfortable for our good-looking 
friend. If he didn’t seem so well able to look out for 
himself, I’d feel mighty uneasy about him. After all, 
he’s a white man and a good fellow, I imagine.” 

“If he should be in great danger down there,” said her 


92 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


ladyship firmly — perhaps consciously — “we must offer 
him a safe retreat in the chateau.” The others looked 
at her in surprise. “We can’t stand off and see him 
murdered, you know,” she qualified hastily. 

The next morning a messenger came up from the town 
with a letter directed to Messrs. Britt and Saunders. It 
was from the Enemy, and requested them to meet him in 
private conference at four that afternoon. “I think 
it will be for the benefit of all concerned if we can 
get together,” wrote the Enemy in conclusion. 

“He’s weakening,” mused Britt, experiencing a sense of 
disappointment over his countryman’s fallibility. “My 
word for it, Saunders, he’s going to propose an armistice 
of some sort. He can’t keep up the bluff.” 

“Shocking bad form, writing to us like this,” said 
Saunders reflectively. “As if we’d go into any agreement 
with the fellow. I’m sure Lady Deppingham wouldn’t 
consider it for a moment.” 

The messenger carried back with him a dignified 
response in which the counsellors for Mr. Browne and 
Lady Deppingham respectfully declined to engage in 
any conference at this time. 

At two o’clock that afternoon the entire force of native 
servants picked up their belongings, and marched out 
of the chateau. Britt stormed and threatened, but the 
inscrutable Mohammedans shook their heads and has- 
tened toward the gates. Despair reigned in the chateau ; 
tears and lamentations were no more effective than blas- 
phemy. The major-domo, suave and deferential, gravely 
informed Mr. Britt that they were leaving at the instiga- 
tion of their legal adviser, who had but that hour issued 
his instructions. 

“I hope you are not forgetting what I said about the 
American gunboats,” said Britt ponderously. 

“Ah,” said Baillo, with a cunning smile, “our man is 


THE AMERICAN BAR 


93 


also a great American. He can command the gunboats, 
too, sahib. We have told him that you have the great 
power. He shows us that he can call upon the English 
ships as well, for he comes last from London. He can 
have both, while you have only one. Besides, he says 
you cannot send a message in the air, without the wire, 
unless he give permission. He have a little machine that 
catch all the lightning in the air and hold it till he reads 
the message. Our man is a great man — next to 
Mohammed.” 

Britt passed his hand over his brow, staggered by these 
statements. Gnawing at his stubby mustache, he was 
compelled to stand by helplessly, while they crowded 
through the gates like a pack of hounds at the call of 
the master. The deserters were gone ; the deserted stood 
staring after them with wonder in their eyes. Suddenly 
Britt laughed and clapped Deppingham on the back. 

“Say, he’s smoother than I thought. Most men would 
have been damned fools enough to say that it was all 
poppy-cock about me sending wireless messages and call- 
ing out navies ; but not he! And that machine for tap- 
ping the air! Say, we’d better go slow with that fellow. 
If you say so, I’ll call him up and tell him we’ll agree to 
his little old conference. What say to that, Browne? 
And you, Deppy? Think we ” 

“See here,” roared Deppingham, red as a lobster, “I 
won’t have you calling me Deppy, confound your ” 

“I’ll take it all back, my lord. Slip of the tongue. 
Please overlook it. But, say, shall I call him up on the 
’phone and head off the strike ?” 

“Anything, Mr. Britt, to get back our servants,” said 
Lady Deppingham, who had come up with Mrs. Browne. 

“I was just beginning to learn their names and to un- 
derstand their English,” lamented Mrs. Browne. 

When Britt reappeared after a brief stay in the tele- 


94 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


phone booth he was perspiring freely, and his face was 
redder, if possible, than ever before. 

“What did he say?” demanded Mrs. Browne, consumed 
by curiosity. Britt fanned himself for a moment before 
answering. 

“He was very peremptory at first and very agreeable 
in the end, Mrs. Browne. I said we’d come down at 
four-thirty. He asked me to bring some cigarettes. 
Say, he’s a strenuous chap. He wouldn’t haggle for a 
second.” 

Britt and Saunders found the Enemy waiting for them 
under the awning in front of the bank. He was sitting 
in a long canvas lounging chair, his feet stretched out, 
his hands clasped behind his head. There was a far-away, 
discontented look in his eyes. A native was fanning him 
industriously from behind. There was no uncertainty in 
their judgment of him; he looked a man from the top 
of his head to the tips of his canvas shoes. 

Every line of his long body indicated power, vitality, 
health. His lean, masterful face, with its clear grey eyes 
(the suspicion of a sardonic smile in their depths), struck 
them at once as that of a man who could and would do 
things in the very teeth of the dogs of war. 

He arose quickly as they came under the awning. A 
frank, even joyous, smile now lighted his face, a smile 
that meant more than either of them could have sus- 
pected. It was the smile of one who had almost forgotten 
what it meant to have the companionship of his fellow- 
man. Both men were surprised by the eager, sincere 
manner in which he greeted them. He clasped their 
hands in a grip that belied his terse, uncompromising 
manner at the telephone ; his eyes were not those of the 
domineering individual whom conjecture had appraised 
so vividly a short time before. 

“Glad to see you, gentlemen,” he said. He was a head 


THE AMERICAN BAR 


95 


taller than either, coatless and hatless, a lean but brawny 
figure in white crash trousers. His shirt sleeves were 
rolled up to the elbows, displaying hard, sinewy fore- 
arms, browned by the sun and wind. “It’s very good of 
you to come down. I’m sure we won’t have to call out 
the British or American gunboats to preserve order in 
our midst. I know something a great deal better than 
gunboats. If you’ll come to my shack down the street, 
I’ll mix you a real American cocktail, a mint julep, a 
brandy smash or anything you like in season. There’s 
a fine mint bed up my way, just back of the bungalow. 
It’s more precious than a ruby mine, let me tell you. And 
yet, I’ll exchange three hundred carats of mint, Mr. 
Britt, for a dozen boxes of your Egyptian deities.” 

Then as they sauntered off into a narrow side street: 
“Do you know, gentlemen, I made the greatest mistake 
of my life in failing to bring a ton of these little white 
sticks out with me? I thought of Gordon gin, both kinds 
of vermouth, brandy, and all that sort of thing, and 
completely forgot the staff of life. I happened to know 
that you have a million packages of them, more or less, up 
at the chateau. My spies told me. I daresay you know 
that I have spies up there all the time? Don’t pay 
any attention to them. You’re at liberty to set spies on 
my trail at any time. Here we are. This is the head- 
quarters for the Mine-owners’ Association of Japat.” 

He led them down a flight of steps and into a long, cool- 
looking room some distance below the level of the street. 
Narrow windows near the ceiling let in the light of day 
and yet kept out much of the oppressive heat. A huge 
ice chest stood at one end of the room. At the other 
end was his desk ; a couch, two chairs, and a small deal 
table were the only other articles of furniture. The 
floor was covered with rugs ; the walls were hung with 
ancient weapons of offence and defence. 


96 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“The Mine-owners’ Association, gentlemen, comprises 
the entire population of Japat. Here is where I receive 
my clients ; here is where they receive their daily loaf, 
if you will pardon the simile. I sit in the chairs ; they 
squat on the rugs. We talk about rubies and sapphires 
as if they were peanuts. Occasionally we talk about our 
neighbours. Shall I make three mint juleps? Here, 
Selim! The ice, the mint and the straws — and the 
bottles. Sit down, gentlemen. This is the American bar 
that Baedeker tells you about — the one you’ve searched 
all over Europe for, I daresay.” 

“Reminds me of home, just a little bit,” said Britt, as 
the tall glasses were set before them. The Englishman 
was still clothed in reticence. His slim, pinched body 
seemed more drawn up than ever before; the part in his 
thatch of straw-coloured hair was as straight and un- 
deviating as if it had been laid by rule; his eyes were 
set and uncompromising. Mr. Saunders was determined 
that the two Americans should not draw him into a trap ; 
after what he had seen of their methods, and their amaz- 
ing similarity of operation, he was quite prepared to sus- 
pect collusion. “They shan’t catch me napping,” was 
the sober reflection of Thomas Saunders. 

The Enemy planted the mint in its bed of chipped ice. 
“The sagacity that Taswell Skaggs displayed in erect- 
ing an ice plant and cold storage house here is equalled 
only by John Wyckholme’s foresightedness in maintain- 
ing a contemporaneous mint bed. I imagine that you, 
gentlemen, are hoping to prove the old codgers insane. 
Between the three of us, and man to man, how can you 
have the heart to propose anything so unkind when we 
look, as we now do, upon the result of their extreme 
soundness of mind? Here’s how?” 

Selim passed the straws and the three men took a long 
and simultaneous “pull” at the refreshing julep. Mr. 


THE AMERICAN BAR 


97 


Saunders felt something melt as he drew the subsequent 
long and satisfying breath. It was the outer rim of his 
cautious reserve. 

“I think we’ll take you up on that proposition to trade 
mint for cigarettes,” said Mr. Britt. “Mr. Browne, my 
client, for one, will sanction the deal. How about your 
client, Saunders?” 

Saunders raised his eyes, but did not at once reply, for 
the very significant reason that he had just begun a 
second “pull” at his straw. 

“I can’t say as to Lady Deppingham,” he responded, 
after touching his lips three or four times with his 
handkerchief, “but I’m quite sure his lordship will make 
no objection.” 

“Then we’ll consider the deal closed. I’ll send one of 
my boys over to-morrow with a bunch of mint. Tele- 
phone up to the bungalow when you need more. By the 
way,” dropping into a curiously reflective air, “may I 
ask why Lady Deppingham is permitted to ride alone 
through the unfrequented and perilous parts of the isl- 
and?” The question was directed to her solicitor, who 
stared hard for a moment before replying. 

“Perilous? What do you mean?” 

“Just this, Mr. Saunders,” said the Enemy, leaning 
forward earnestly. “I’m not responsible for the acts of 
these islanders. You’ll admit that there is some justifica- 
tion in their contention that the island and its treasures 
may be snatched away from them, by some hook or crook. 
Well, there are men among them who would not hesitate 
to dispose of one or both of the heirs if they could do it 
without danger to their interests. What could be more 
simple, Mr. Saunders, than the death of Lady Depping- 
ham if her horse should stumble and precipitate her to 
the bottom of one of those deep ravines? She wouldn’t 
be alive to tell how it really happened and there would 


98 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


be no other witnesses. She’s much too young and beauti- 
ful to come to that sort of an end.” 

“My word!” was all that Saunders could say, forget- 
ting his julep in contemplation of the catastrophe. 

“He’s right,” said Britt promptly. “I’ll keep my own 
client on the straight and public path. He’s liable to 
tfip over, too.” 

“Deuce take your Browne,” said Saunders with mild as- 
perity. “He never rides alone.” 

“I’ve noticed that,” said the Enemy coolly. “He’s 
usually with Lady Deppingham. It’s lucky that Japat 
is free from gossips, gentlemen.” 

“Oh, I say,” said Saunders, “none of that talk, you 
know.” 

“Don’t lose your temper, Saunders,” remonstrated 
Britt. “Browne’s . orth two of Deppingham.” 

“Gentlemen,” said the Enemy, “please remember that 
we are not to discuss the habits of our clients. To change 
the subject, Britt, that was a — Oh, Selim, please step 
over to the bank and ask what time it is.” As Selim 
departed, the Enemy remarked: “It won’t do for him to 
hear too much. As I was saying, that was a clever bluff 
of yours — I mean the gunboat goblin. I have enlarged 
upon your story somewhat. You ” 

“Yes,” said Britt, “you’ve added quite a bit to it.” 

“It’s a sort of two-story affair now, don’t you know,” 
said Saunders, feeling the effect of the drink. They all 
laughed heartily, two, at least, in some surprise. Saun- 
ders never let an opportunity escape to repeat the joke 
to his friends in after life; in fact, he made the oppor- 
tunity more often than not. 

“There’s another thing I want to speak of,” said the 
Enemy, arising to prepare the second round of juleps. 
“I hope you won’t take my suggestions amiss. They’re 
intended for the peace and security of the island, nothing 


THE AMERICAN BAR 


99 


else. Of course, I could sit back and say nothing, there- 
by letting your clients cut off their own noses, but it’s 
hardly fair among white people. Besides, it can have 
nothing to do with the legal side of the situation. Well, 
here it is: I hear that your clients and their partners 
for life are in the habit of gambling like fury up 
there.” 

“Gambling?” said Britt. “What rot!” 

“The servants say that they play Bridge every night 
for vast piles of rubies, and turn the wheel daily for sap- 
phires uncountable. Oh, I get it straight.” 

“Why, man, it’s all a joke. They use gun wads and 
simply play that they are rubies.” 

“My word,” said Saunders, “there isn’t a ruby or sap- 
phire in the party.” 

“That’s all right,” said the Enemy, standing before 
them with a bunch of mint in one hand and the bowl of 
ice in the other. They could not but see that his face 
was serious. “We know it’s all right, but the servants 
don’t. How do they know that the stakes are not what 
they’re said to be ? It may be a j oke, but the people think 
you are playing for real stones, using gun wads as 
they’ve seen poker chips used. I’ve heard that as much 
as £50,000 in precious gems change hands in a night. 
Well, the situation is obvious. Every man in Japat 
thinks that your people are gambling with jewels that 
belong to the corporation. They think there’s some- 
thing crooked, d’ye see? My advice to you is: Stop 
that sort of joking. It’s not a joke to the islanders, as 
you may find out to your sorrow. Take the tip from me, 
gentlemen. Let ’em play for pins or peppermint drops, 
but not for rubies red. Here’s your julep, Mr. Saun- 
ders. Fresh straw ?” 

“By Jove,” said Saunders, taking a straw, and at 
the same time staring in open-mouthed wonder at the tali 


100 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


host; “you appal me! It’s most extraordinary. 
But I see your point clearly, quite clearly. Do you, 
Britt?” 

“Certainly,” said Britt with a look of disdain. “I told 
’em to lower the limit long ago.” 

“This is all offered in a kindly spirit, you understand,” 
said the magnanimous Enemy. “We might as well live 
comfortably as to die unseasonably here. Another little 
suggestion, Mr. Saunders. Please tell Lord Depping- 
ham that if he persists in snooping about the ravines in 
search of rubies, he’ll get an unmanageable bullet in 
the back of his head some day soon. He’s being watched 
all the time. The natives resent his actions, foolish as 
they may seem to us. This is not child’s play. He has 
no right to a single ruby, even if he should see one and 
know what it was. Just tell him that, please, Mr. 
Saunders.” 

“I shall, confound him,” exploded Saunders, smiting 
the table mightily. “He’s too damned uppish anyhow. 
He needs taking down ” 

“Ah, Selim,” interrupted the Enemy, as the native boy 
entered, “no mail, eh?” 

“No, excellency, the ship is not due to arrive for two 
weeks.” 

“Ah, but, Selim, you forget that I am expecting a 
letter from Von Blitz’s wives. They promised to let me 
know how soon he is able to resume work at the mines.” 

“I hear you polished him off neatly,” said Britt, with 
a grin. 

“Just the rough edges, Mr. Britt. He is now a gem 
of purest ray serene. By the way, I hope you’ll not take 
my mild suggestions amiss.” . 

“There’s nothing I object to except your power to call 
strikes among our servants. That seems to me to be 
rather high-handed,” said Britt good-naturedly. 


THE AMERICAN BAR 


101 


“No doubt you’re right,” agreed the other, “but you 
must remember that I needed the cigarettes.” 

“My word !” muttered Saunders admiringly. 

“Look here, old man,” said Britt, his cheeks glowing, 
“it’s mighty good of you to take this trouble for ” 

“Don’t mention it. I’d only ask in return that we three 
be a little more sociable hereafter. We’re not here to 
cut each other’s throats, you know, and we’ve got a 
deadly half year ahead of us. What say?” 

For answer the two lawyers arose and shook hands with 
the excellent Enemy. When they started for the chateau 
at seven o’clock, each with six mint juleps about his per- 
son, they were too mellow for analysis. The Enemy, who 
had drunk but little, took an arm of each and piloted 
them sturdily through the town. 

“I’d walk up to the chateau if I were you,” he said, 
when they clamoured for a jinriksha apiece. “It will 
help pass away the time.” 

“By Jove,” said Saunders, hunting for the Enemy’s 
hand. “I’m going to ’nform L-Lord Deppingham that 
he’s ’nsufferable ass an’ — an’ I don’t care who knows it.” 

“Saunders,” said Britt, with rare dignity, “take your 
hand out of my pocket.” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE SLOUGH OF TRANQUILLITY 

Three months stole by with tantalising slowness. How 
the strangers on the island of J apat employed those dull, 
simmering, idle weeks it would not be difficult to relate. 
There was little or no incident to break the monotony of 
their enforced residence among the surly Japatites; the 
same routine obtained from day to day. Sultry, change- 
less, machine-like were those hundred days and nights. 
They looked forward with hopeful, tired eyes; never 
backward. There was nothing behind them but a dour 
waste, a bog through which they had driven themselves 
with a lash of resolution. 

Autumn passed on into winter without a change of ex- 
pression in the benign face of nature. Christmas day 
was as hot as if it had come in midsummer; the natives 
were as naked, the trees as fully clad. The curious sun 
closed his great eye for a few hours in the twenty-four; 
the remainder of the time he glared down upon his vic- 
tims with a malevolence that knew no bounds. Soft, 
sweet winds came with the typhoon season, else the poor 
whites must have shrivelled and died while nature revelled. 
Rain fell often in fitful little bursts of joyousness, but 
the hungry earth sipped its moisture through a million 
greedy lips, eager to thwart the mischievous sun. 
Through it all, the chateau gleamed red and purple and 
gray against the green mountainside, baked where the 
sun could meet its face, cool where the caverns blew upon 
it with their rich, damp breath. 

The six months were passing away, however, in spite of 
themselves; ten weeks were left before the worn, but de- 
termined heirs could cast off their bonds and rush away 


THE SLOUGH OF TRANQUILLITY 103 


to other climes. It mattered little whether they went away 
rich or poor ; they were to go ! Go ! That was the rich- 
est thing the future held out to them — more precious than 
the wealth for which they stayed. Whatever was being 
done for them in London and Boston, it was no rec- 
ompense for the weariness of heart and soul that they had 
found in the green island of Japat. 

True, they rode and played and swam and romped 
without restraint, but beneath all of their abandon 
there lurked the ever-present pathos of the jail, the 
asylum, the detention ward. The blue sky seemed 
streaked with the bars of their prison ; the green earth 
clanked as with the sombre tread of feet crossing flag- 
stones. 

Not until the end of January was there a sign of revolt 
against the ever-growing, insidious condition of melan- 
choly. As they turned into the last third of their exile, 
they found heart to rejoice in the thought that release 
was coming nearer and nearer. The end of March! 
Eight weeks off ! Soon there would be but seven weeks — 
then six! 

And, all this time, the islanders toiled as they had toiled 
for years ; they reckoned in years, while the strangers cast 
up Time’s account in weeks and called them years. Each 
day the brown men worked in the mines, piling gems into 
the vaults with a resoluteness that never faltered. They 
were the sons of Martha. The rubies of Mandalay and 
Mogok were rivalled by the takings of these indifferent 
stockholders in the great Japat corporation. Nothing 
short of a ruby as large as the Tibet gem could have 
startled them out of their state of taciturnity. Gems 
weighing ten and fifteen carats already had been taken 
from the “byon” in the wash, and yet inspired no exalta- 
tion. Sapphires, nestling in the soft ground near their 
carmine sisters, were rolling into the coffers of the com- 


104 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


pany, but they were treated as so many pebbles in this 
ceaseless search. 

The tiniest child knew that the ruby would not lose its 
colour by fire, while the blue of the sapphire would van- 
ish forever if subjected to heat. All these things and 
many more the white strangers learned; they were sur- 
feited with a knowledge that tired and bored them. 

From London came disquieting news for all sides to the 
controversy. The struggle promised to be drawn out 
for years, perhaps ; the executors would probably be com- 
pelled to turn over the affairs of the corporation to agents 
of the Crown ; in the meantime a battle royal, long drawn 
out, would undoubtedly be fought for the vast unentailed 
estate left behind by the two legators. 

The lonely legatees, marooned in the far South Sea, be- 
gan to realise that even after they had spent their six 
months of probation, they would still have months, even 
years, of waiting before they could touch the fortune 
they laid claim to. The islanders also were vaguely 
awake to the fact that everything might be tied up for 
years, despite the provisions of the will ; a restless, stub- 
born feeling of alarm spread among them. This feeling 
gradually developed itself into bitter resentment ; hatred 
for the people who were causing this delay was growing 
deeper and fiercer with each succeeding day of toil. 

Their counsellor, the complacent Enemy, was in no sense 
immune to the blandishments of the climate. His tremen- 
dous vitality waned; he slowly drifted into the current 
with his fellows, although not beside them. For some un- 
accountable reason, he held himself aloof from the men 
and women that his charges were fighting. He met the 
two lawyers often, but nothing passed between them that 
could have been regarded as the slightest breach of trust. 
He lived like a rajah in his shady bungalow, surrounded 
by the luxuries of one to whom all things are brought 


THE SLOUGH OF TRANQUILLITY 105 

indivisible. If he had any longing for the society of 
women of his own race and kind, he carefully concealed 
it ; his indifference to the subtle though unmistakable ap- 
peals of the two gentlewomen in the chateau was irritat- 
ing in the extreme. When he deliberately, though 
politely, declined their invitation to tea one afternoon, 
their humiliation knew no bounds. They had, after 
weeks of procrastination, surrendered to the inevitable. 
It was when they could no longer stand out against the 
common enemy — Tranquillity! Lord Deppingham and 
Bobby Browne suffered in silence; they even looked long- 
ingly toward the bungalow for the relief that it con- 
tained and refused to extend. 

Lady Deppingham and Mrs. Browne should not be mis- 
understood by the reader. They loved their husbands — 
I am quite sure of that ; but they were tired of seeing no 
one else, tired of talking to no one else. Moreover, in 
support of this one-sided assertion, they experienced from 
time to time the most melancholy attacks of jealousy. 
The drag of time hung so heavily upon them that any 
struggle to cast it off was immediately noticeable. If 
Mrs. Browne, in plain despair, went off for a day’s ride 
with Lord Deppingham, that gentleman’s wife was sick 
with jealousy. If Lady Agnes strolled in the moonlit 
gardens with Mr. Browne, the former Miss Bate of Bos- 
ton could scarcely control her emotions. They shed many 
tears of anguish over the faithlessness of husbands ; tears 
of hatred over the viciousness of temptresses. Their 
quarrels were fierce, their upbraidings characteristic, but 
in the end they cried and kissed and “made up” ; they 
actually found some joy in creating these little feuds 
and certainly there was great exhilaration in ending 
them. 

They did not know, of course, that the wily Britt, 
despite his own depression, was all the while accumulat- 


106 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


ing the most astounding lot of evidence to show that a 
decided streak of insanity existed in the two heirs. He 
won Saunders over to his way of thinking, and that 
faithful agent unconsciously found himself constantly on 
the watch for “signs,” jotting them down in his mem- 
orandum book. Britt was firm in his purpose to make 
them out as “mad as March hares” if needs be ; he slyly 
patted his typewritten “manifestations” and said that it 
would be easy sailing, so far as he was concerned. One 
choice bit of evidence he secured in a most canny manner. 
He was present when Miss Pelham, at the bank, was “tak- 
ing” a dictation f or the Enemy — some matter pertaining 
to the output of the mines. Lady Deppingham had just 
been guilty of a most astounding piece of foolhardiness, 
and he was discussing it with the Enemy. She had forced 
her horse to leap across a narrow fissure in the volcano 
the day before. Falling, she would have gone to her 
death three hundred feet below. 

“She must be an out and out lunatic,” the Enemy had 
said. Britt looked quickly at Miss Pelham and Mr. 
Bowles. The former took down the statement in short- 
hand and Bowles was afterward required to sign 
“his deposition.” Such a statement as that, coming 
from the source it did, would be of inestimable value in 
Court. 

“If they could only be married in some way,” was Britt’s 
private lament to Saunders, from time to time, when 
despair overcame confidence. 

“I’ve got a ripping idea,” Saunders said one day. 

“Let’s have it. You’ve always got ’em. Why not di- 
vide with me?” 

“Can’t do it just yet. I’ve been looking up a little mat- 
ter. I’ll spring it soon.” 

“How long have you been working on the idea?” 

“Nearly four months,” said Saunders, yawning. 


THE SLOUGH OF TRANQUILLITY 107 

“ ’Gad, this climate is enervating,” was Britt’s caustic 
comment. 

Saunders was heels over head in love with Miss Pelham 
at this time, so it is not surprising that he had some sort 
of an idea about marriage, no matter whom it concerned. 

Night after night, the Deppinghams and Brownes gave 
dinners, balls, musicales, “Bridges,” masques and theatre 
suppers at the chateau. First one would invite the other 
to a great ball, then the other would respond by giving 
a sumptuous dinner. Their dinners were served with as 
much punctiliousness as if the lordliest guests were pres- 
ent; their dancing parties, while somewhat barren of 
guests, were never dull for longer than ten minutes after 
they opened. Each lady danced twice and then pleaded 
a headache. Whereupon the “function” came to a close. 

For a while, the two hostesses were not in a position to 
ask any one outside their immediate families to these func- 
tions, but one day Mrs. Browne was seized by an inspira- 
tion. She announced that she was going to send regular 
invitations to all of her friends at home. 

“Regular written invitations, with five-cent stamps, my 
dear,” she explained enthusiastically. “Just like this: 
‘Mrs. Robert Browne requests the pleasure of Miss So- 
and-so’s company at dinner on the 17th of Whatever-it- 
is. Please reply by return steamer.’ Won’t it be fun? 
Bobby, please send down to the bank for the stamps. I’m 
going to make out a list.” 

After that it was no unusual thing to see large packages 
of carefully stamped envelopes going to sea in the ships 
that came for the mail. 

“And I’d like so much to meet these native Americans 
that you are asking,” said Lady Agnes sweetly, and with- 
out malice. “I’ve always wondered if the first families 
over there show any trace of their wonderful, picturesque 
Indian blood.” 


108 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Our first families came from England, Lady Depping- 
ham,” said Drusilla, biting her lips. 

“Indeed? From what part of England?” Of course, 
that query killed every chance for a sensible discussion. 

One morning during the first week in February, the 
steamer from Aden brought stacks of mail — the custom- 
ary newspapers, magazines, novels, telegrams and let- 
ters. It was noticed that her ladyship had several hun- 
dred letters, many bearing crests or coats-of-arms. 

At last, she came to a letter of many pages, covered 
with a scrawl that looked preposterously fashionable. 

“Nouveau riche,” thought Drusilla Browne, looking up 
from her own letters. Lady Agnes gave a sudden shriek, 
and, leaping to her feet, performed a dance that set her 
husband and Bobby Browne to gasping. 

“She’s coming !” she cried ecstatically, repeating herself 
a dozen times. 

“Who’s coming, Aggie?” roared her husband for the 
sixth time. 

“She!” 

“She may be a steamship for all I know, if ” 

“The Princess ! Deppy, I’m going to squeeze you ! I 
must squeeze somebody! Isn’t it glorious? Now — now! 
Now life will be worth living in this beastly place.” 

Her dearest friend, the Princess, had written to say that 
she was coming to spend a month with her. Her dear 
schoolmate of the old days in Paris — her chum of the 
dear Sacred Heart Convent when it flourished in the 
Boulevard des Invalides — her roommate up to the day 
when that institution was forced to leave Paris for less 
unfriendly fields! 

“In her uncle’s yacht, Deppy — the big one that came to 
Cowes last year, don’t you know? Of course, you do. 
Don’t look so dazed. He’s cruising for a couple of 
months and is to set her down here until the yacht returns 


THE SLOUGH OF TRANQUILLITY 109 

from Borneo and the Philippines. She says she hopes 
it will be quiet here ! Quiet ! She hopes it will be quiet! 
Where are the cigarettes, Deppy? Quick! I must do 
something devilish. Yes, I know I swore off last week, 
but — please let me take ’em.” The four of them smoked 
in wondrous silence for two or three minutes. Then 
Browne spoke up, as if coming from a dream: 

“I say, Deppingham, you can take her out walking and 
pick up a crownful of fresh rubies every day or so.” 

“Hang it all, Browne, I’m afraid to pluck a violet these 
days. Every time I stoop over I feel that somebody’s 
going to take a shot at me. I wonder why the beggars 
select me to shoot at. They’re not always popping away 
at you, Browne. Why is it? I’m not looking for rubies 
every time I stoop over. They shot at me the other day 
when I got down to pick up my crop.” 

“It’s all right so long as they don’t kill you,” was 
Browne’s consoling remark. 

“By Jove!” said Deppingham, starting up with a look 
of horror in his eyes, sudden comprehension rushing down 
upon him. “I wonder if they think I am you , Browne! 
Horrible !” 


, CHAPTER XII 


WOMEN AND WOMEN 

The Enemy’s office hours were from three to five in the 
afternoon. It was of no especial consequence to his 
clients that he frequently transferred the placard from 
the front of the company’s bank to the more alluring 
doorway of the “American bar all was just and fair so 
long as he was to be found where the placard listed. 
Twice a week, Miss Pelham came down from the chateau 
in a gaily bedecked jinriksha to sit opposite to him 
in his stuffy corner of the banking house, his desk be- 
tween them, her notebook trembling with propinquity. 
Mr. Britt generously loaned the pert lady to the Enemy 
in exchange for what he catalogued as “happy days.” 

Miss Pelham made it a point to look as fascinating as 
possible on the occasion of these interesting trips into 
the Enemy’s territory. 

The Enemy, doing his duty by his clients with a deter- 
mination that seemed incontestable, suffered in the end 
because of his very zealousness. He took no time to 
analyse the personal side of his work ; he dealt with the 
situation from the aspect of a man who serves but one in- 
terest, forgetting that it involved the weal of a thousand 
units. For that reason, he was the last to realise that 
an intrigue was shaping itself to combat his endeavours. 
Von Blitz, openly his friend and ally, despite their sad 
encounter, was the thorn which pricked the natives into a 
state of uneasiness and doubt as to their agent’s sincerity. 

Von Blitz, cunning and methodical, sowed the seed of 
distrust ; it sprouted at will in the minds of the uncouth, 
suspicious islanders. They began to believe that no 
good could come out of the daily meetings of the three 


WOMEN AND WOMEN 


111 


lawyers. A thousand little things cropped out to prove 
that the intimacy between their man and- the shrewd law- 
yers for the opposition was inimical to their best inter- 
ests. 

It was Von Blitz who told the leading men of the island 
that their wives — the Persians, the Circassians, the 
Egyptians and the Turkish houris — were in love with the 
tall stranger. It was he who advised them to observe 
the actions, to study the moods of their women. 

If he spoke to one of the women, beautiful or plain, the 
whole male population knew of it, and smiled derisively 
upon the husband. Von Blitz had turned an adder loose 
among these men ; it stung swiftly and returned to sting 
again. 

The German knew the condition of affairs in his own 
household. His overthrow at the hands of the American 
had cost him more than physical ignominy; his wives 
openly expressed an admiration for their champion. 

He knew too well the voluptuous nature of these creamy, 
unloved women, who had come down to the island of 
Japat in exchange for the baubles that found their way 
into the crowns of Persian potentates. He knew too well 
that they despised the men who called them wives, even 
though fear held them constantly in bond. Rebuffed, un- 
noticed, scorned, the women themselves began to suspect 
and hate each other. If he spoke kindly to one of 
them, be she fair and young or old and plain, the eyes 
of all the others blazed with jealousy. Every eye in 
Japat was upon him ; every hand was turning against him. 

It was Miss Pelham who finally took it upon herself 
to warn the lonely American. The look of surprise and 
disgust that came into his face brought her up sharply. 
She had been “taking” reports at his dictation; it was 
during an intermission of idleness on his part that she 
broached the subject. 


118 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

“Miss Pelham,” he said coldly, “will you be kind enough 
to carry my condolences to the ladies at court, and say 
that I recommend reading as an antidote for the poison 
which idleness produces. I’ve no doubt that they, with 
all the perspicacity of lonely and honest women, imagine 
that I maintain a harem as well as a bar-room. Kindly 
set them right about it. Neither my home nor my bar- 
room is open to ladies. If you don’t mind we’ll go on 
with this report.” 

Miss Pelham flushed and looked very uncomfortable. 
She had more to say, and yet hesitated about bearding 
the lion. He noticed the pain and uncertainty in her 
erstwhile coquettish eyes, and was sorry. 

“I beg your pardon,” he said gently. 

“You’re wrong about Lady Deppingham and Mrs. 
Browne,” she began hurriedly. “They’ve never said any- 
thing mean about you. It was just my miserable way of 
putting it. The talk comes from the islanders. Mr. 
Bowles has told Mr. Britt and Mr. Saunders. He thinks 
Von Blitz is working against you, and he is sure that all 
of the men are furiously jealous.” 

“My dear Miss Pelham, you are very good to warn me,” 
said he easily. “I have nothing to fear. The men are 
quite friendly and — ” He stopped abruptly, his eyes 
narrowing in thought. A moment later he arose and 
walked to the little window overlooking the square. 
When he turned to her again his face wore a more seri- 
ous expression. “Perhaps there is something in what 
you say. I’m grateful to you for preparing me.” It 
had suddenly come to mind that the night before he had 
seen a man skulking in the vicinity of the bungalow. His 
body servant, Selim, had told him that very morning 
that this same man, a native, had stood for hours among 
the trees, apparently watching the house. 

“I just thought I’d tell you,” murmured Miss Pelham 


WOMEN AND WOMEN 


113 


nervously. “I — we don’t want to see you get into trouble 
— none of us.” 

“Thank you.” After a long pause, he went on, lower- 
ing his voice: “Miss Pelham, I have had a hard time 
here, in more ways than I care to speak of. It may in- 
terest you to know that I had decided to resign next 
month and go home. I’m a living man, and a living 
man objects to a living death. It’s worse than I had 
thought. I came out here in the hope that there would 
be excitement, life, interest. The only excitement I get 
is when the ships call twice a month. I’ve even prayed 
that our beastly old volcano might erupt and do all sorts 
of horrible things. It might, at least, toss old Mr. 
Skaggs back into our midst ; that would be a relief, even 
if he came up as a chunk of lava. But nothing happens 
— nothing ! These Persian fairies you talk about — bah ! 
I said I’d decided to resign, to get out of the infernal 
place. But I’ve changed my mind. I’ll stick my time 
out. I’ve got three months longer to stay and I’ll stay. 
If Von Blitz thinks he can drive me out, he’s mistaken. 
I’ll be here after you and your friends up there have 
Bailed away, Miss Pelham — God bless you, you’re all 
white! — and I’ll be here when Von Blitz and his wives 
are dancing to the tunes I play. Now let’s get back to 
work.” 

“All right ; but please be careful,” she urged. “Don’t 
let them catch you unprepared. If you need help, I 
know the men at the chateau will come at your call.” 

One of those bright, enveloping smiles swept over his 
face — the smile that always carried the little stenog- 
rapher away with it. A merry chuckle escaped his lips. 
“Thanks, but you forget that I can call out the Ameri- 
can and British navies.” 

She looked doubtful. “I know,” she said, “but I’m 
afraid Von Blitz is scuttling your ships.” 


114 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

“If poor little Bowles can conquer them with a red 
jacket that’s too small for him, to say nothing of the 
fit it would give to the British army, I think I can scrape 
up a garment or two that will startle them in another 
way. Please don’t worry about me. I shall call my 
clients together and have it out with them. If Von 
Blitz is working in the dark, I’ll compel him to show his 
hand. And, Miss Pelham,” he concluded very slowly, 
“I’ll promise to use a club, if necessary, to drive the 
Persian ladies away. So please rest easy on my account.” 

Poor little Miss Pelham left him soon afterward, her 
head and heart ringing with the consciousness that she 
had at last driven him out of his customary reserve. Mr. 
Saunders was pacing the street in the neighbourhood of 
the bank. He had been waiting an hour or more, and he 
was green with jealousy. She nodded sweetly to him 
and called him to the side of her conveyance. “Don’t you 
want to walk beside me?” she asked. And he trotted 
beside her like a faithful dog, all the way to the distant 
chateau. 

The next morning the town bustled with a new excite- 
ment. A trim, beautiful yacht, flying strange colours, 
steamed into the little harbour of Aratat. 

She came to anchor much closer in than ships usually 
ventured, and an officer put off in the small boat, head- 
ing for the pier, which was already crowded with the na- 
tive women and children. Every one knew that the yacht 
brought the Princess who was to visit her ladyship ; 
nothing else had been talked of among the women since 
the word first came down from the chateau that she was 
expected. 

The Enemy came down from his bungalow, attracted 
by the unusual and inspiring spectacle of a ship at an- 
chor. A line of anxiety marked his brow. Two figures 
had watched his windows all night long, sinister shadows 


WOMEN AND WOMEN 


115 


that always met his eye when it penetrated the gloom 
of the moonlit forest. 

Lord and Lady Deppingham were on the pier before 
him. Excitement and joy illumined her face; her eyes 
were sparkling with anticipation ; he could almost see 
that she trembled in her eagerness. He came quite close 
to them before they saw him. Exhilaration no doubt 
was responsible for the very agreeable smile of recog- 
nition that she bestowed upon him. Or, perhaps it was 
inspired by womanly pity for the man whose loneliness 
was even greater and graver than her own. The Enemy 
could do no less than go to them with his pleasantest 
acknowledgment. His rugged face relaxed into a most 
charming, winsome smile, half-diffident, half-assured. 

He passed among the wives of his clients without so 
much as a sign of recognition, coolly indifferent to the 
admiring glances that sought his face. The dark, 
langourous eyes that flashed eager admiration a moment 
before now turned sullen with disappointment. He had 
ignored their owners; he had avoided them as if they 
were dust heaps in the path ; he had spurned them as if 
they were dogs by the roadside. And yet he smiled upon 
the Englishwoman, he spoke with her, he admired her! 
The sharp intake of breath that swept through the crowd 
told plainer than words the story of the angry eyes that 
followed him to the end of the pier, where the officer’s 
boat was landing. 

“I have heard that you expect a visitor,” said the 
Enemy in his most agreeable manner. Lady Depping- 
ham had just told him that she had a friend aboard the 
yacht. 

“Won’t you go aboard with us,” asked Deppingham, at 
a loss for anything better to say. The Enemy shook his 
head and smiled. 

“You are very good, but I believe my place is here,” 


116 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


he said, with a swift, sardonic glance toward his herd 
of followers. Lady Deppingham raised her delicate eye- 
brows and gave him the cool, intimate smile of compre- 
hension. He flushed. “I am one of the lowly and the 
despised,” he explained humbly. 

“The Princess is to be with me for a month. We expect 
more sunshine than ever at the chateau,” ventured her 
ladyship. 

“I sincerely hope you may be disappointed,” said he 
commiseratingly, fanning himself with his hat. She 
laughed and understood, but Deppingham was half way 
out to the yacht before it became clear to him that the 
Enemy hoped literally, not figuratively. 

The Enemy sauntered back toward the town, past and 
through the staring crowd of women. Here and there 
in the curious throng the face of a Persian or an Egyp- 
tian stared at him from among the brown Arabians. 
There was no sign of love in the glittering eyes of these 
trafficked women of Japat. One by one they lifted 
their veils to their eyes and slowly faded into the side 
streets, each seeking the home she despised, each filled 
with a hatred for the man who would not feast upon 
her beauty. 

The man, all unconscious of the new force that was to 
oppose him from that hour, saw the English people go 
aboard. He waited until the owner’s launch was ready 
to return to the pier with its merry company, and then 
slowly wended his way to the “American bar,” lonelier 
than ever before in his life. He now knew what it was 
that he had missed more than all else — Woman ! 

Britt and Saunders were waiting for him under the 
awning outside. They were never permitted to enter, 
except by the order or invitation of the Enemy. Selim 
stood guard and Selim loved the tall American, who 
could be and was kind to him. 


WOMEN AND WOMEN 


117 


“Hello,” called Britt. “We saw you down there, but 
couldn’t get near. By ginger, old man, I had no idea 
your Persians were so beautiful. They are Oriental 
gems of ” 

“My Persians? What the devil do you mean, Britt? 
Come in and sit down ; I want to talk to you fellows. See 
here, this talk about these women has got to be stopped. 
It’s dangerous for you and it’s dangerous for me. It 
is so full of peril that I don’t care to look at them, hand- 
some as you say they are. Do you know what I was 
thinking of as I came over here, after leaving one of 
the most charming of women? — your Lady Depping- 
ham. I was thinking what a wretched famine there is in 
women. I’m speaking of women like Lady Deppingham 
and Mrs. Browne — neither of whom I know and yet I’ve 
known them all my life. The kind of women we love — 
not the kind we despise or pity. Don’t you see? I’m 
hungry for the very sight of a woman.” 

“You see Miss Pelham often enough,” said Saunders 
surlily. The Enemy was making a pitcher of lemonade. 

“My dear Saunders, you are quite right. I do see 
Miss Pelham often enough. In my present frame of 
mind I’d fall desperately in love with her if I saw her 
oftener.” Saunders blinked and glared at him through 
his pale eyes. 

“My word,” he said. Then he got up abruptly and 
stalked out of the room. Britt laughed immoderately. 

“He’s a lucky dog,” reflected the Enemy. “You see, 
he loves her, Britt — he loves little Miss Pelham. Do you 
know what that means? It means everything is worth 
while. Hello! Here he is back! Come in, Saunders. 
Here’s your lemo !” 

Saunders was excited. He stopped in the doorway, but 
looked over his shoulder into the street. 

“Come along,” he exclaimed. “They’re going up to 


118 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


the chateau — the Princess and her party. My word, 
she’s ripping !” He was off again, followed more lei- 
surely by the two Americans. 

At the corner they stopped to await the procession of 
palanquins and jinrikshas, which had started from the 
pier. The smart English victoria from the chateau, drawn 
by Wvckholme’s thoroughbreds, was coming on in ad- 
vance of the foot brigade. Half a dozen officers from 
the yacht, as many men in civilian flannels, and a small 
army of servants were being borne in the palanquins. In 
the rear seat of the victoria sat Lady Deppingham and 
one who evidently was the Princess. Opposite to them 
sat two older but no less smart-looking women. 

Britt and the Enemy moved oyer to the open space in 
front of the mosque. They stood at the edge of and 
apart from the crowd of curious Moslems, who had 
moved up in advance of the procession. 

“A gala day in Aratat,” observed the stubby Mr. Britt. 
“We are to have the whole party over night up at the 
chateau. Perhaps the advent of strangers may heal the 
new breach between Mrs. Browne and Lady Deppingham. 
They haven’t been on speaking terms since day before 
yesterday. Did Miss Pelham tell you about it? Well, 
it seems that Mrs. Browne thinks that Lady Agnes is 
carrying on a flirtation with Browne — Hello! By 
thunder, old man, she’s — she’s speaking to you !” He 
turned in astonishment to look at his companion’s face. 

The Enemy was staring, transfixed, at the young 
woman in white who sat beside Lady Deppingham. He 
seemed paralysed for the moment. Then his helmet 
came off with a rush ; a dazed smile of recognition 
lighted his face. The very pretty young woman in the 
wide hat was leaning forward and smiling at him, a 
startled, uncertain look m her eyes. Lady Deppingham 
was glancing open-mouthed from one to the other. The 


WOMEN AND WOMEN 


119 


Enemy stood there in the sun, bareheaded, dazed, un- 
believing, while the carriage whirled past and up the 
street. Both women turned to look back at him as they 
rounded the corner into the avenue ; both were smiling. 

“I must be dreaming,” murmured the Enemy. 

Britt took him by the arm. “Do you know her?” he 
asked. The Enemy turned upon him with a radiant 
gleam in his once sombre disconsolate eyes. 

“Do you think I’d be grinning at her like a damned 
fool if I didn’t? Why the dickens didn’t you tell me 
that it was the Princess Genevra of Rapp-Thorberg who 
was coming?” 

“Never thought of it. I didn’t know you were inter- 
ested in princesses, Chase.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


CHASE PERFORMS A MIRACLE 

Hollingsworth Chase now felt that he was on neutral 
ground with the Princess Genevra. He could hardly 
credit his senses. When he left Rapp-Thorberg in dis- 
grace some months before, his susceptibilities were in a 
most thoroughly chastened condition ; a cat might look 
at a king, but he had forsworn peeping into the secret 
affairs of princesses. 

His strange connection with the Skaggs will case is 
easily explained. After leaving Thorberg he went di- 
rectly to Paris ; thence, after ten days, to London, where 
he hoped to get on as a staff correspondent for one of 
the big dailies. One day at the Savage Club, he listened 
to a recital of the amazing conditions which attended the 
execution of Skaggs’s will. He had shot wild game in 
South Africa with Sir John Brodney, chief counsellor for 
the islanders, and, as luck would have it, was to lunch with 
him on the following day at the Savoy. 

His soul hungered for excitement, novelty. The next 
day, when Sir John suddenly proposed that he go out to 
Japat as the firm’s representative, he leaped at the 
chance. There would be no difficulty about certain lit- 
tle irregularities, such as his nationality and the fact that 
he was not a member of the London bar: Sir John stood 
sponsor for him, and the islanders would take him on 
faith. 

In truth, Rasula was more than glad to have the ser- 
vices of an American. He had heard Wyckholme talk 
of the manner in which civil causes were conducted and 
tried in the United States, and he felt that one Yankee 
on the scene was worth ten Englishmen at home. Doubt- 


CHASE PERFORMS A MIRACLE 121 


less he got his impressions of the genus Englishman by 
observation of the devoted Bowles. 

The good-looking Mr. Chase, writhing under the dread 
of exposure as an international jackass, welcomed the 
opportunity to get as far away from civilisation as pos- 
sible. He knew that the Prince Karl story would not 
lie dormant. It would be just as well for him if he were 
where the lash of ridicule could not reach him, for he was 
thin-skinned. 

We know how and when he came to the island and we 
have renewed our short acquaintance with him under pe- 
culiar circumstances. It would be sadly remiss, however, 
to suppress the information that he could not banish the 
fair face of the Princess Genevra from his thoughts dur- 
ing the long voyage ; nor would it be stretching the point 
to say that his day dreams were of her as he sat and 
smoked in his bungalow porch. 

Before Chase left London, Sir John Brodney bluntly 
cautioned him against the dangers that lurked in Lady 
Deppingham’s eyes. 

“She won’t leave you a peg to stand on, Chase, if you 
seek an encounter,” he said. “She’s pretty and she’s 
clever, and she’s made fools of better men than you, my 
boy. I don’t say she’s a bad lot, because she’s too smart 
for that. But I will say that a dozen men are in love 
with her to-day. I suppose you’ll say that she can’t help 
that. I’m only warning you on the presumption that 
they don’t seem to be able to help it, either. Remember, 
my boy, you are going out there to offset, not to beset, 
Lady Deppingham.” 

Chase learned more of the attractive Lady Agnes and 
her court before he left England. Common report cred- 
ited her with being dangerously pretty, scandalously un- 
wise, eminently virtuous, distractingly adventurous in 
the search for pleasure, charmingly unscrupulous in her 


m 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


treatment of men’s hearts, but withal, sufficiently clever 
to dodge the consequences of her widespread though gen - 
tle iniquities. He was quite prepared to admire her, and 
yet equally resolved to avoid her. Something told him 
that he was not of the age and valor of St. Anthony. 
He went out to Japat with a stern resolution to lead him- 
self not into temptation; to steer clear of the highway of 
roses and stick close to the thorny paths below. Besides, 
he felt that he deserved some sort of punishment for 
looking so high in the Duchy of Rapp-Thorberg. 

Not that he was in love with the proud Princess 
Genevra ; he denied that to himself a hundred times a day 
as he sat in his bungalow and smoked the situation over. 

He had proved to himself, quite beyond a doubt, that 
he was not in love, when, like a bolt from a clear sky, she 
stepped out of the oblivion into which he had cast her, 
to smile upon him without warning. It was most unfair. 
Her smile had been one of the most difficult obstacles to 
overcome in the effort to return a fair and final verdict. 

As he sat in the shade of his bungalow porch on the 
afternoon of her arrival, he lamented that every argu- 
ment he had presented in the cause of common sense had 
been knocked into a cocked hat by that electric smile. 
Could anything be more miraculous than that she should 
come to the unheard-of island of Japat — unless, possibly, 
that he should be there when she came? She was there 
for him to look upon and love and lose, just as he had 
dreamed all these months. It mattered little that she was 
now the wife of Prince Karl of Brabetz ; to him she was 
still the Princess Genevra of Rapp-Thorberg. 

If he had ever hoped that she might be more to him than 
an unattainable divinity, he was not fool enough to imag- 
ine that such a hope could be realised. She was a prin- 
cess royal, he the slave who stood afar off and worshipped 
beyond the barrier of her disdain. In his leather pocket- 


CHASE PERFORMS A MIRACLE 123 

book lay the ever-present reminder that she could be no 
more than a dream to him. It was the clipping from a 
Paris newspaper, announcing that the Princess Genevra 
was to wed Prince Karl during the Christmas holidays. 

He had seen the Christmas holidays come and go with 
the certain knowledge in his heart that they had given 
her to Brabetz as the most glorious present that man had 
ever received. If he was tormented by this thought at 
the happiest season of the year, his crustiness was at- 
tributed by others to the loneliness of his life on the 
island. If he grew leaner and more morose, no one knew 
that it was due to the passing of a woman. 

Now she was come to the island and, so far as he had 
been able to see, there was no sign of the Prince of Bra- 
betz in attendance. The absence of the little musician 
set Chase to thinking, then to speculating and, in the 
end, to rejoicing. Her uncle by marriage, an English 
nobleman of high degree, in gathering his friends for 
the long cruise, evidently had left the Prince out of his 
party, for what reason Chase could not imagine. To say 
that the omission was gratifying to the tall American 
would be too simple a statement. There is no telling to 
what heights his thoughts might have carried him on that 
sultry afternoon if they had not been harshly checked by 
the arrival of a messenger from the chateau. His blood 
leaped with anticipation. Selim brought word that the 
messenger was waiting to deliver a note. The Enemy, 
who shall be called by his true name hereafter, steadied 
himself and commanded that the man be brought forth- 
with. 

Could it be possible — but no ! She would not be writing 
to him. What a ridiculous thought! Lady Depping- 
ham ? Ah, there was the solution ! She was acting as 
the go-between, she was the intermediary ! She and the 
Princess had put their cunning heads together — but, 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


124 

alas! His hopes fell flat as the note was put into his 
eager hand. It was from Britt. 

Still he broke the seal with considerable eagerness. As 
he perused the somewhat lengthy message, his disappoint- 
ment gave way to a no uncertain form of excitement; 
with its conclusion, he was on his feet, his eyes gleaming 
with enthusiasm. 

“By George !” he exclaimed. “What luck ! Things are 
coming my way with a vengeance. I’ll do it this very 
night, thanks to Britt. And I must not forget Browne. 
Ah, what a consolation it is to know that there are Ameri- 
cans wherever one goes. Selim ! Selim !” He was stand- 
ing as straight as a corporal and his eyes were glistening 
with the fire of battle when Selim came up and forgot to 
salute, so great was his wonder at the transformation. 
“Get word to the men that I want every mother’s son of 
’em to attend a meeting in the market-place to-night at 
nine. Very important, tell ’em. Tell Von Blitz that he’s 
got to be there. I’m going to show him and my pictur- 
esque friend, Rasula, that I am here to stay. And, Selim, 
tell that messenger to wait. There’s an answer.” 

Long before nine o’clock the men of Japat began to 
gather in the market and trading place. It was evident 
that they expected and were prepared for the crisis. Von 
Blitz and Rasula, who had played second fiddle until he 
could stand it no longer, were surprised and somewhat 
staggered by the peremptory tone of the call, but could 
see no chance for the American to shift his troublesome 
burden. The subdued, sullen air of the men who filled 
the torchlighted market-place brooded ill for any attempt 
Chase might make to reconcile them to his peculiar 
views, no matter how thoroughly they may have been 
misunderstood by the people. Explanations were easy 
to make, but difficult to establish. Chase could convince 
them, no doubt, that he was not guilty of double dealing, 


CHASE' PERFORMS A MlllACLE 125 


but it would be next to impossible to extinguish the blaze 
of jealousy that was consuming the reason of the head 
men of Japat, skilfully fed by the tortured Von Blitz 
and blown upon ceaselessly by the breath of scandal. 

Five hundred dark, sinister men were gathered in knots 
about the square. They talked in subdued tones and 
looked from fiery eyes that belied their outward calm. 

Hollingsworth Chase, attended by Selim, came down 
from his mountain retreat. He heard the sibilant hiss of 
the scorned Persians as he passed among them on the 
outskirts of the crowd; he observed the threatening at- 
titude of the men who waited and watched; he saw the 
white, ugly face of Von Blitz quivering with triumph ; he 
felt the breath of disaster upon his cheek. And yet he 
walked among them without fear, his head erect, his eyes 
defiant. He knew that a crisis had come, but he smiled 
as he walked up to meet it, with a confidence that was 
sublime. 

The market-place was a large open tract in the extreme 
west end of the town, some distance removed from the 
business street and. the pier. On two sides were the tents 
of the fruit peddlers and the vegetable hucksters, negroes 
who came in from the country with their produce. The 
other sides were taken up by the fabric and gewgaw 
venders, while in the centre stood the platforms from 
which the auctioneers offered treasures from the Occi- 
dent. Through a break in the foothills, the chateau was 
plainly discernible, the sea being obscured from view by 
the dense forest that crowned the cliffs. 

Chase made his way boldly to the nearest platform, ex- 
changing bows with the surprised Von Blitz and the 
saturnine Rasula, who stood quite near. The men of 
Japat slowly drew close in as he mounted the platform. 
The gleaming eyes that shone in the light of the torches 
did not create any visible sign of uneasiness in the Ameri- 


126 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


can, even though down in his heart he trembled. He 
knew the double chance he was to take. From where he 
stood looking out over those bronze faces, he could pick 
out the scowling husbands who hated him because their 
wives hated them. He could see Ben Ali, the master of 
two beauties from Teheran and the handsome dancing 
girl from Cairo ; there was Amriph, who basked erstwhile 
in the sunshine of a bargain from Damascus and a seraph 
from Bagdad, but who now groped about in the blackness 
of their* contempt ; and others, all of whom felt in their 
bitter hearts that their misery was due to the prowess of 
this gallant figure. 

Afar off stood the group of women who had inspired 
this hatred and distrust. Behind them, despised and un- 
countenanced by the Oriental elect, were crowded the na- 
tive women, who, down in their hearts, loathed the usurp- 
ers. It was Chase’s hope that the husbands of these sim- 
ple women would ultimately stand at his side in the fight 
for supremacy — and they were vastly in the majority. 
If he could convince these men that his dealings with them 
were honest, Von Blitz could “go hang.” 

He faced the crowd, knowing that all there were against 
him. “Von Blitz!” he called suddenly. The German 
started and stepped back involuntarily, as if he had been 
reprimanded. 

“I’ve called this meeting in order to give you a chance 
to say to my face some of the things you are saying be- 
hind my back. Thank God, all of you men understand 
English. I want you to hear what Von Blitz has to say 
in public, and then I want you to hear what I say to him. 
Incidentally, you may have something to say for your- 
selves. In the first place, I want you all to understand 
just how I stand in respect to my duties as your legal rep- 
resentative. Von Blitz and Rasula and others, I hear, 
have undertaken to discredit my motives as the agent of 


CHASE PERFORMS A MIRACLE 127 


your London advisers. Let me say, right here, that the 
man who says that I have played you false in the slight- 
est degree, is a liar — a damned liar, if you prefer it that 
way. You have been told that I am selling you out to the 
lawyers for the opposition. That is lie number one. You 
have been led to believe that I make false reports to your 
London solicitors. Lie number two. You have been 
poisoned with the story that I covet certain women in 
this town — too numerous to mention, I believe. That is 
lie number three. They are all beautiful, my friends, but 
I wouldn’t have one of ’em as a gift. 

“For the past few nights my home has been watched. 
I want to announce to you that if I see anybody hanging 
around the bungalow after to-day, I’m going to put a 
bullet through him, just as I would through a dog. 
Please bear that in mind. Now, to come down to Yon 
Blitz. You can’t drive me out of this island, old man. 
You have lied about me ever since I beat you up that 
night. You are sacrificing the best interests of these 
people in order to gratify a personal spite, in order to 
wreak a personal vengeance. Stop ! You can talk when 
I have finished. You have set spies upon my track. You 
have told these husbands that their wives need watching. 
You have turned them against me and against their wives, 
w r ho are as pure and virtuous as the snow which you never 
see. (God, forgive me!) All this, my friend, in order 
to get even with me. I don’t ask you to retract anything 
you’ve said. I only intend you to know that I can crush 
you as I would a peanut, if you know what that is. 
You ” 

Von Blitz, foaming with rage, broke in: “I suppose 
you vill call out der warships! We are not fools! You 
can fool some of ” 

“Now, see here, Yon Blitz, I’ll show whether I can call 
out a warship whenever I need one. I have never intended 


128 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


to ask naval help except in case of an attack by our ene- 
mies up at the chateau. You can’t believe that I seek to 
turn those big guns against my own clients — the clients 
I came out here to serve with my life’s blood if necessary. 
But, hear me, you Dutch lobster ! I can. have a British 
man-of-war here in ten hours to take you off this island 
and hang you from a yard arm on the charge of con- 
spiracy against the Crown.” 

Von Blitz and Rasula laughed scornfully and turned 
to the crowd. The latter began to harangue his fellows. 
“This man is a — a — ” he began. 

“A bluff!” prompted Von Blitz, glaring at his tall ac- 
cuser. 

“A bluff,” went on Rasula. “He can do none of these 
things. Nor can the Americans at the chateau. I know 

that they are liars. They ” 

“I’ll make you pay for that, Rasula. Your time is 
short. Men of Japat, I don’t want to serve you unless 
you trust me ” 

A dozen voices cried: “We don’t trust you !” “Dog of a 
Christian ! Son of a snake !” Von Blitz glowed with satis- 
faction. 

“One moment, please! Rasula knows that I came out 
here to represent Sir John Brodney. He knows how I am 
regarded in London. He is jealous because I have not 
listened to his chatter. I am not responsible for the prob- 
able delay in settling the estate. If you are not very 
careful, you will ruin every hope for success that you 
may have had in the beginning. The Crown will take 
it out of your hands. You’ve got to show yourselves 
worthy of handling the affairs of this company. You 
can’t do it if you listen to such carrion as Von Blitz and 
Rasula. Oh, I’m not afraid of you! I know that you 
have written to Sir John, Rasula, asking that I be re- 
called. He won’t recall me, rest assured, unless he throws 


CHASE PERFORMS A MIRACLE 129 


up the case. I have his own letters to prove that he is 
satisfied with my work out here. . I am satisfied that there 
are enough fair-minded men in this crowd to protect me. 
They will stand by me in the end. I call upon ” 

But a howl of dissent from the throng brought him up 
sharply. His face went white and for a moment he feared 
the malevolence that stared at him from all sides. He 
looked frequently in the direction of the distant chateau. 
An anxious gleam came into his eyes — was it of despair ? 
A hundred men were shouting, but no one seemed to have 
the courage to break over the line that he had drawn. 
Knives slipped from many sashes; Von Blitz was scream- 
ing with insane laughter, pointing his finger at the dis- 
credited American. While they shouted and cursed, his 
gaze never left the cleft in the hills. He did not attempt 
to cry them down; the effort would have been in vain. 
Suddenly a wild, happy light came into his anxious, 
searching eyes. He gave a mighty shout and raised his 
hands, commanding silence. 

Selim, clinging to his side, also had seen the sky-rocket 
which arose up from the chateau and dropped almost 
instantly into the wall of trees. 

There was something in the face and voice of the Ameri- 
can that quelled the riotous disorder. 

“You fools!” he shouted, “take warning! I have told 
you that I would not turn the guns of England and 
America against you unless you turned against me. I 
am your friend — but, by the great Mohammed you’ll pay 
for my life with every one of your own if you resort to 
violence. Listen! To-day I learned that my life was 
threatened. I sent a message in the air to the nearest 
battleship. There is not an hour in the day or night 
that I or the people in the chateau cannot call upon our 
governments for help. My call to-day has been an- 
swered, as I knew it would be. There is always a warship 


130 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


near at hand, my friends. It is for you to say whether 
a storm of shot and shell ” 

Von Blitz leaped upon a platform and shouted madly: 
“Fools ! Don’t believe him ! He cannot bring der ships 
here ! He lies — he lies ! He ” 

At that moment, a shrill clamour of voices arose in the 
distance — the cries of women and children. Chase’s heart 
gave a great bound of joy. He knew what it meant. 
The crowd turned to learn the cause of this sudden dis- 
turbance. Across the square, coming from the town, 
raced the women and children, gesticulating wildly and 
screaming with excitement. 

Chase pointed his finger at Yon Blitz and shouted: 

“I can’t, eh? There’s a British warship standing off 
the harbour now, and her guns are trained ” 

But he did not complete the astounding, stupefying 
sentence. The women were screaming : 

“The warship ! The warship ! Fly ! Fly !” 

In a second, the entire assemblage was racing furiously, 
doubtingly, yet fearfully toward the pier. Von Blitz 
and Rasula shouted in vain. They were left with 
Chase, who smiled triumphantly upon their ghastly 
faces. 

“Gentlemen, they are not deceived. There is a warship 
out there. You came near to showing your hand to- 
night. Now come along with me, and I’ll show my hand 
to you. Rasula, you’d better draw in your claws. You’re 
entitled to some consideration. But Yon Blitz ! Jacob, 
you are standing on very thin ice. I can have you shot 
to-morrow morning.” 

Von Blitz sputtered and snarled. “It is all a lie! It 
is a trick !” He would have drawn his revolver had not 
Rasula grasped his arm. The native lawyer dragged 
him off toward the pier, half-doubting his own senses. 

Just outside the harbour, plainly distinguishable in the 


CHASE PERFORMS A MIRACLE 131 


moonlight, lav a great cruiser, her searchlights whipping 
the sky and sea with long white lashes. 

The gaping, awe-struck crowd in the street parted to 
let Chase pass through on his way to the bungalow. He 
was riding one of Wyckholme’s thoroughbreds, a fiery, 
beautiful grey. His manner was that of a medieval con- 
queror. He looked neither to right nor to left, but kept 
his eyes straight ahead, ignoring the islanders as com- 
pletely as if they did not exist. 

“It’s more like a Christian Endeavour meeting than it 
was ten minutes ago,” he was saying to himself, all the 
time wondering when some reckless unbeliever would hurl 
a knife at his back. He gravely winked his eye in the 
direction of the chateau. “Good old Britt !” he muttered 
in his exultation. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE LANTERN ABOVE 

Chase sat for hours on his porch that night, gazing 
down upon the chateau. Lights gleamed in a hundred 
of its windows. He knew that revelry held forth in what 
he was pleased enough to call the feudal castle, and yet 
his heart warmed toward the gay people w T ho danced and 
sang while he thirsted at the gates. 

The bitterness of his own isolation, the ostracism that 
circumstance had forced upon him, would have been mad- 
dening on this night had not all rancour been tempered 
by the glorious achievement in the market-place. He 
wondered if the Princess knew what he had dared and 
what he had accomplished in the early hours of the 
night. He wondered if they had pointed out his solitary 
light to her — if, now and then, she bestowed a casual 
glance upon that twinkling star of his. The porch lan- 
tern hung almost directly above his head. 

He was not fool enough to think that he had perma- 
nently pulled the wool over the eyes of the islanders. 
Sooner or later they would come to know that he had 
tricked them, and then — well, he could only shake his 
head in dubious contemplation of the hundred things 
that might happen. He smiled as he smoked, however, 
for he looked down upon a world that thought only of 
the night at hand. 

The chateau was indeed the home of revelry. The pent- 
up, struggling spirits of those who had dwelt therein for 
months in solitude arose in the wild stampede for free- 
dom. All petty differences between Lady Deppingham 
and Drusilla Browne, and they were quite common now, 
were forgotten in the whirlwind of relief that came with 


THE LANTERN ABOVE 


133 


the strangers from the yacht. Mrs. Browne’s good-look- 
ing eager husband revelled in the prospect of this de- 
lirious night — this almost Arabian night. He was swept 
off his feet by the radiant Princess — the Scheherezade of 
his boyhood dreams ; his blithe heart thumped as it had 

not done since he was a boy. The Duchess of N 

and the handsome Marchioness of B came into his 

tired, hungry life at a moment when it most needed 
the light. It was he who fairly dragged Lady Agnes 
aside and proposed the banquet, the dance, the concert 
— everything — and it was he who carried out the hun- 
dred spasmodic instructions that she gave. 

Late in the night, long after the dinner and the dance, 
the tired but happy company flocked to the picturesque 
hanging garden for rest and the last refreshment. 
Every man was in his ducks or flannels, every woman in 
the coolest, the daintiest, the sweetest of frocks. The 
night was clear and hot ; the drinks were cold. 

The hanging garden was a wonderfully constructed 
open-air plaisance suspended between the chateau itself 
and the great cliff in whose shadow it stood. The cliff 
towered at least three hundred feet above the roof of 
the spreading chateau, a veritable stone wall that ex- 
tended for a mile or more in either direction. Its crest 
was covered with trees beyond which, in all its splendour, 
rose the grass-covered mountain peak. Here and there, 
along the face of this rocky palisade, tiny streams of 
water leaked through and came down in a never-ending 
spray, leaving the rocks cool and slimy from its touch. 

Near the chateau there was a real waterfall, reminding 
one in no small sense of the misty veils at Lauterbrunnen 
or Giesbach. The swift stream which obtained life from 
these falls, big and little, ran along the base of the cliff 
for some distance and was then diverted by means of a 
deep, artificial channel into an almost complete circuit 


134 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


of the chateau, forming the moat. It sped along at the 
foot of the upper terrace, a wide torrent that washed 
between solid walls of masonry which rose to a height 
of not less than ten feet on either side. There were two 
drawbridges — seldom used but always practicable. One, 
a handsome example of bridge building, crossed the cur- 
rent at the terminus of the grand approach which led 
up from the park ; the other opened the way to the 
stables and the servants’ quarters at the rear. A small, 
stationary bridge crossed the vicious stream immediately 
below the hanging garden and led to the ladders by 
which one ascended to the caverns that ran far back into 
the mountain. 

Two big, black, irregular holes in the face of the cliff 
marked the entrance to these deep, rambling caves, won- 
derful caverns wrought by the convulsions of the dead 
volcano, cracks made by these splintering earthquakes 
when the island was new. 

The garden hung high between the building and the 
cliff, swung by a score of great steel cables. These 
cables were riveted soundly in the solid rock of the cliff 
at one end and fastened as safely to the stone walls of 
the chateau at the other. It swung staunchly from its 
moorings, with the constancy of a suspension bridge, 
and trembled at the slightest touch. 

It was at least a hundred feet square. The floor was 
covered with a foot or more of soil in which the rich 
grass and plants of the tropics flourished. There were 
tiny flower beds in the center; baby palms, patchouli 
plants and a maze of interlacing vines marked the edges 
of this wonderful garden in mid-air. Cool fountains 
sprayed the air at either end of the green enclosure : the 
illusion was complete. 

The walls surrounding the garden were three feet high 
and were intended to represent the typical English gar- 


THE LANTERN ABOVE 


135 


den wall of brick. To gain access to the hanging gar- 
den, one crossed a narrow bridge, which led from the 
second balcony of the chateau. There was not an hour 
in the day when protection from the sun could not be 
found in this little paradise. 

Bobby Browne was holding forth, with his usual exuber- 
ance, on the magnificence of the British navy. The 

Marquess of B , uncle to the Princess, swelled with 

pride as he sat at the table ana tasted his julep through 
the ever-obliging straw. Th; Princess, fanning herself 
wearily, leaned back and looked up into the mystic night, 
the touch of dreamland caressing her softly. The others 
— eight or ten men and half as many women — listened 
to the American in twice as many moods. 

“There she is now, sleeping out there in the harbour, 
a great, big thing with the kindest of hearts inside of 
those steel ribs. Her Majesty’s ship, the King's Own! 
Think of it! She convoys a private yacht; she stops 
off at this beastly island to catch her breath and to see 
that all are safe; then she charges off into the horizon 
like a bird that has no home. Ah, I tell you, it’s won- 
derful. Samrat, fill the Count’s glass again. May I 
offer you a cigarette, Princess? By the way, I wonder 
how Chase came off with his side show?” 

“Saunders tells me that he was near to being butchered, 
but luck was with him,” said Deppingham. “His ship 
came home.” 

“It was a daring trick. I’m glad he pulled it off. He’s 
a man, that fellow is,” said Browne. “See, Princess, 
away up there in the mountain is his home. There’s a 
light — see it? He keeps rather late hours, you 
see.” 

“Tell me about him,” said the Princess suddenly. She 
arose and walked to the vine-covered wall, followed by 
Bobby Browne. 


136 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“I don’t know much to tell you,” said he. “He’s made 
an enemy or two and they are trying to drive him out. 
I’d be rather sorry to see him go. We’ve asked him down 
here, just because we can’t bear to think of a fellow-crea- 
ture wasting his days in utter loneliness. But he has, so 
far, declined with thanks. The islanders are beginning 
to hate him. They distrust him, Britt says. Of course, 
you know why we are here, you ” 

“Every one knows, Mr. Browne. You are the most in- 
teresting quartette in the world just now. Every one is 
wondering how it is going to end. What a pity you 
can't marry Lady Agnes.” 

“Oh, I say !” protested Browne. She laughed merrily. 

“But how dull it must be for Mr. Chase ! Does he com- 
plain ?” 

“I can’t say that he does. Britt — that’s my lawyer — 
Britt says he’s never heard a murmur from him. He 
takes his medicine with a smile. I like that sort of a 
fellow and I wish he’d be a little more friendly. It 
couldn’t interfere with his duties and I don’t see where 
the harm would come in for any of us.” 

“He has learned to know and keep his place,” said she 
coolly. Perhaps she was thinking of his last night in the 
palace garden. Away up there in the darkness gleamed 
his single, lonely, pathetic little light. “Isn’t it rather 
odd, Mr. Browne, that his light should be burning at 
two o’clock in the morning? Is it his custom to sit 
up ” 

“I’ve never noticed it before, now you speak of it. I 
hope nothing serious has happened to him. He mav have 
been injured in — I say, if you don’t mind, I’ll ask some 
one to telephone up to his place. It would be beastly 
to let him lie up there alone if we can be of any service 
to ” 

“Yes, do telephone,” she broke in. “I am sure Lady 


THE LANTERN ABOVE 


137 


Deppingham will approve. No, thank you ; I will stand 
here a while. It is cool and I love the stars.” He hurried 
off to the telephone, more eager than ever, now that she 
had started the new thought in his brain. Five minutes 
later he returned to her, accompanied by Lady Agnes. 
She was still looking at — the stars? The little light 
among the trees could easily have been mistaken for a 
star. 

“Lady Deppingham called him up,” said Bobby. 

“And he answered in person,” said her ladyship. “He 
seemed strangely agitated for a moment or two, Genevra, 
and then he laughed — yes, laughed in my face, although 
it was such a long way off. People can do what they 
like over the telephone, my dear. I asked him if he was 
ill, or had been hurt. He said he never felt better in 
his life and hadn’t a scratch. He laughed — I suppose 
to show me that he was all right. Then he said he was 
much obliged to me for calling him up. He’d quite for- 
gotten to go to bed. He asked me to thank you for 
bringing a warship. You saved his life. Really, one 
would think you were quite a heroine — or a Godsend or 
something like that. I never heard anything sweeter 
than the way he said good-night to me. There !” 

The light in the bungalow bobbed mysteriously for an 
instant and then went out. 

“How far is it from here?” asked the Princess 
abruptly. 

“Nearly two miles as the crow flies — only there are no 
crows here. Five miles by the road, I fancy, isn’t it, 
Bobby? I call him Bobby, you know, when we are all 
on good terms. I don’t see why I shouldn’t if you stop 
to think how near to being married to each other we are 
at this very instant.” 

“I wonder if help could reach him quickly in the event 
of an attack?” 


138 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“It could, if he’d have the kindness to notify us by 
’phone,” said Browne. 

“But he wouldn’t telephone to us,” said Lady Depping- 
h am ruefully. “He’s not so communicative as that.” 

“Surely he would call upon you for help if he ” 

“You don’t know him, Genevra.” 

The Princess smiled in a vague sort of way. “I’ve met 
him quite informally, if you remember.” 

“I should say it was informally. It’s the most deli- 
cious story I’ve ever heard. You must tell it to Mr. 
Browne, dear. It’s all about the Enemy in Thorberg, 
Mr. Browne. There’s your wife calling, Bobby. She 
wants you to tell that story again, about the bishop who 
rang the door bell.” 

The next morning the captain of the King's Own came 
ashore and was taken to the chateau for dejeuner. Late 
in the afternoon, the Marquess and his party, saying 
farewell to the Princess and the revived legatees, put out 
to the yacht and steamed away in the wake of the great 
warship. The yacht was to return in a month, to pick 
up the Princess. 

Genevra, her maids, her men and her boxes, her poodle 
and her dachshund, were left behind for the month of 
March. Not without misgiving, it must be said, for the 
Marquess, her uncle, was not disposed to look upon the 
island situation as a spot of long-continued peace, even 
though its hereditary companion, Prosperity, might 
reign steadily. But she refused to listen to their warn- 
ings. She smiled securely and said she had come to visit 
Lady Agnes and she would not now disappoint her for 
the world. All this, and much more, passed between 
them. 

“You won’t be able to get help as cleverly and as 
timely as that American chap got it last night,” pro- 
tested the Marquess. “Warships don’t browse around 


THE LANTERN ABOVE 139 

/ike gulls, you know. Karl will never forgive me if I 
leave you here ” 

“Karl is of a very forgiving nature, uncle, dear,” said 
Genevra sweetly. “He forgave you for defending Mr. 
Chase, because you are such a nice Englishman. I’ve in- 
duced him to forgive Mr. Chase because he’s such a nice 
American — although Mr. Chase doesn’t seem to know 
it — and I’m quite sure Karl would shake his hand if 
he should come upon him anywhere. Leave Karl to me, 
uncle.” 

“And leave you to the cannibals, or whatever they are. 

I can’t think of it ! It’s out of the ” 

“Take him away, Aunt Gretchen. ‘And come again 
some other day,’ ” she sang blithely. 

And so they sailed away without her, just as she had 
intended from the beginning. Lord Deppingham stood 
beside her on the pier as the shore party waved its adieus 
to the yacht. 

“By Jove, Genevra, I hope no harm comes to you here 
in this beastly place,” said he, a look of anxiety in his 
honest eyes. “There goes our salvation, if any rumpus 
should come up. We can’t call ’em out of the sky as 
Chase did last night. Lucky beggar! That fellow 
Chase is ripping, by Jove. That’s what he is. I wish 
he’d open up his heart a bit and ask us into that devilish 
American bar of his.” 

“He owes us something for the warship we delivered to 
him last night,” said Bobby. “He has made good with 
his warship story, after all, thanks to the King’s Own 
and Britt.” 

“And the fairy Princess,” added Lady Depping- 
ham. 

“I am doubly glad I came, if you include me in the 
miracle,” said Genevra, shuddering a little as she looked 
at the lounging natives. “Isn’t it rather more of a 


140 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


miracle that I should come upon mine ancient champion 
in this unheard-of corner of the globe?” 

“I’d like to hear the story of Chase and his Adventures 
in the Queen’s Garden,” reminded Bobby Browne. 

“I’ll tell it to you to-night, my children,” said the Prin- 
cess, as they started for the palanquins. 

Hollingsworth Chase dodged into the American bar just 
in time to escape the charge of spying. 


CHAPTER XV 


MR. SAUNDERS HAS A PLAN 

Miss Pelham’s affair with Thomas Saunders by this 
time had reached the stage where observers feel a hesi- 
tancy about twitting the parties most concerned. Even 
Britt, the bravest jester of them all, succumbed to the 
prevailing wind when he saw how it blew. He got in 
the lee of popular opinion and reefed the sails of the good 
ship Tantalus. 

“Let true love take its course,” he remarked to Bobby 
Browne one day, after they had hearkened to Depping- 
ham’s furious complaint that he couldn’t find Saunders 
when he wanted him if he happened to be wanted simul- 
taneously by Miss Pelham. “Miss Pelham is a fine girl. 
Your wife likes her and looks after her. She’s a clever 
girl, much cleverer than Saunders would be if he were a 
girl. She’s found out that he earns a thousand a year 
and that his mother is a very old woman. That shows 
foresight. She says she’s just crazy about London, al- 
though she doesn’t know where Hammersmith is. That 
shows discretion. She’s anxious to see the boats at Put- 
ney and talks like an encyclopaedia about Kew Gardens. 
That shows diplomacy. You see, Saunders lives in Ham- 
mersmith, not far from the bridge, all alone with his 
mother, who owns the house and garden. It’s all very 
appealing to Miss Pelham, who has got devilish tired of 
seeing the universe from a nineteenth story in Broadway. 
I heard her tell Saunders that she keeps a couple of ge- 
ranium pots on the window sill near which she sits all day. 
She says she’s keen about garden flowers. Looks serious 
to me.” 

“She’s a very nice girh” agreed Bobby Browne. 


142 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“A very saucy one,” added Deppingham, who had come 
a severe cropper in his single attempt to interest her in a 
mild flirtation. 

“She’s off with Saunders now,” went on Britt. “That’s 
why you can’t find him, my lord. If you really want 
him, however, I think you can reach him by strolling 
through the lower end of the park and shouting. For 
heaven’s sake, don’t fail to shout.” 

“I do want him, confound him. I want to ask him how 
man}" days there are left before our time is up on the 
island. Demmed annoying, that I can’t have legal advice 
when I ” 

“How many days have you been here?” 

“How the devil should I know? That’s what we’ve got 
Saunders here for. He’s supposed to tell us when to go 
home, and all that sort of thing, you know.” 

“It isn’t going to be so bad, now that the Princess has 
come to cheer us up a bit,” put in Bobby Browne. “Life 
has a new aspect.” 

“I say, Browne,” burst out Deppingham, irrelevantly, 
his eyeglass clenched in the tight grasp of a perplexed 
frown, “would you mind telling me that story about the 
bishop and the door bell again?” 

Britt laughed hoarsely, his chubby figure shivering with 
emotion. “You’ve heard that story ten times, to my cer- 
tain knowledge, Deppingham.” 

His lordship glared at him. “See here, Britt, you’ll 
oblige me by ” 

“Very well,” interrupted Britt readily. “I forget once 
in a while.” 

“The trouble with you Americans is this,” growled Dep- 
pingham, turning to Browne and speaking as if Britt 
was not in existence : “you have no dividing line. ’Gad, 
you wouldn’t catch Saunders sticking his nose in where 
he wasn’t wanted. He’s ” 


MR. SAUNDERS HAS A PLAN 


143 


“I was under the impression that you wanted him,” in- 
terrupted Britt, most good-naturedly, his stubby legs far 
apart, his hands in his pockets. 

“I say, Browne, would you mind coming into my room? 
I want to hear that story, but I’m hanged if I’ll listen 
to it out here.” 

The oft-told story of the bishop and the bell, of course, 
has no bearing upon the affairs of Miss Pelham and 
Thomas Saunders. And, for that matter, the small af- 
fairs of that worthy couple have little or no bearing upon 
the chief issue involved in this tale. Nobody cares a rap 
whether Saunders, middle-aged and unheroic bachelor, 
with his precise little “burnsides,” won the heart of the 
pert Miss Pelham, precise in character if not always so 
in type. It is of no serious consequence that she kept 
him from calling her Minnie until the psychological mo- 
ment, and it really doesn’t matter that Thomas was days 
in advancing to the moment. It is only necessary to 
break in upon them occasionally for the purpose of se- 
curing legal advice, or the equally unromantic desire to 
have a bit of typewriting done. We are not alone in this 
heartless and uncharitable obtrusion. Deppingham, 
phlegmatic soul, was forever disturbing Saunders with 
calls to duty, although Saunders was brutish enough, in 
his British way, to maintain (in confidence, of course) 
that he was in the employ of Lady Deppingham, or no 
one at all. Nevertheless, he always lived under the shad- 
ow of duty. At any moment, his lordship was liable to 
send for him to ask the time of day — or some equally im- 
portant question. And this brings us to the hour when 
Saunders unfolded his startling solution to the problem 
that confronted them all. 

First, he confided in Britt, soberly, sagely and in per- 
fect good faith. Britt was bowled over. He stared at 
Saunders and gasped. Nearly two minutes elapsed be- 


144 


THE MAN FROM RRODNEY’S 


fore he could find words to reply; which proves conclu- 
sively that it must have been something of a shock to him. 
When at last he did express himself, however, there was 
nothing that could have been left unsaid — absolutely 
nothing. He went so far as to call Saunders a doddering 
fool and a great many other things that Saunders had 
not in the least expected. 

The Englishman was stubborn. They had it back and 
forth, from legal and other points of view, and finally 
Britt gave in to his colleague, reserving the right to 
laugh when it was all over. Saunders, with a determina- 
tion that surprised even himself, called for a conference 
of all parties in Wyckholme’s study, at four o’clock. 

It was nearly six before Lady Deppingham arrived, al- 
though she had but forty steps to traverse. Mr. and 
Mrs. Browne were there fully half an hour earlier. Dep- 
pingham appeared at four and then went away. He was 
discovered asleep in the hanging garden, however, and 
at once joined the others. Miss Pelham was present with 
her note book. The Princess was invited by Lady Dep- 
pingham, who held no secrets from her, but the royal 
young lady preferred to go out walking with her dogs. 
Pong, the red cocker, attended the session and twice 
snarled at Mr. Saunders, for no other reason than that 
it is a dog’s prerogative to snarl when and at whom he 
chooses. 

“Now, what’s it all about, Saunders?” demanded Dep- 
pingham, with a wide yawn. Saunders looked hurt. 

“It is high time we were discussing some way out of 
our difficulties,” he said. “Under ordinary circumstances, 
my lady, I should not have called into joint consultation 
those whom I may be pardoned for designating as our 
hereditary foes. Especially Mr. Browne. But, as my 
plan to overcome the obstacle which has always stood in 
our way requires the co-operation of Mr. Browne, I felt 


MR. SAUNDERS HAS A PLAN 


145 


safe in asking him to be present. Mrs. Browne’s con- 
jugal interest is also worthy of consideration.” Mrs. 
Browne sniffed perceptibly and stared at the speaker. 
“But five weeks remain before our stay is over. We all 
know, by this time, that there is little or no likelihood of 
the estate being closed on schedule time. I think it is 
clear, from the advices we have, that the estate will be 
tied up in the courts for some time to come, possibly a 
year or two. From authoritative sources, we learn that 
the will is to be broken. The apparent impossibility of 
marriage between Lady Deppingham and Mr. Browne 
naturally throws our joint cause into jeopardy. There 
would be no controversy, of course, if the terms of the 
will could be carried out in that respect. The islanders 
understand our position and seem secure in their rights. 
They imagine that they have us beaten on the face of 
things. Consequently they are jolly well upset by the 
news that we are to contest the will in the home courts. 
They are, from what I hear and observe, pretty thor- 
oughly angered. Now, the thing for us to do is to get 
married.” 

He came to this conclusion with startling abruptness. 
Four of his hearers stared at him in blank amazement. 

“Get married?” murmured first one, then another. 

“Are you crazy?” demanded Browne. Britt was grin- 
ning broadly. 

“Certainly not !” snapped Saunders. 

“Oh, by Jove !” exclaimed Deppingham, relieved. “I see. 
You mean you contemplate getting married. I congrat- 
ulate you. You gave me quite a shock, Saund ” 

“I don’t mean anything of the sort, my lord,” said 
Saunders, getting very red in the face. Miss Pelham 
looked up from her note book quickly. He winked at her, 
and her ladyship saw him do it. “I mean that it is high 
time that Lady Deppingham and Mr. Browne were 


146 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

getting married. We haven’t much time to spare. 
It ” 

“Good Lord !” gasped Bobby Browne. “You are crazy, 
after all.” 

“Open the window and give some air,” said Britt coolly. 

“See here, Saunders, what the devil is the matter with 
you?” roared Deppingham. 

“My lord, I am here to act as your legal adviser,” said 
Saunders with dignity. “May I be permitted to proceed ?” 

“Rather queer legal advice, ’pon my word.” 

“Please let him explain,” put in Mrs. Browne, whose 
sense of humour was strongly attracted by this time. “If 
there is anything more to be learned concerning matri- 
mony, I’d like to know it.” 

“Yes, Mr. Saunders, you may proceed,” said Lady Ag- 
nes, passing a hand over her bewildered eyes. 

“Thank you, my lady. Well, here it is in a nutshell: 
I have not spoken of it before, but you and Mr. Browne 
can very easily comply with the provisions of the will. 
You can be married at any time. Now, I ” 

“And where do I come in ?” demanded Deppingham, sar- 
castically. 

“Yes, and I?” added Mrs. Browne. “You forget us, 
Mr. Saunders.” 

“I include Mrs. Browne,” amended Deppingham. “Are 
we to be assassinated? By Jove, clever idea of yours, 
Saunders. Simplifies matters tremendously.” 

“I hear no objection from the heirs,” remarked Saun- 
ders, meaningly. Whereupon Lady Agnes and Bobby 
came out of their stupor and protested vigorously. 

“Miss Pelham,” said Britt, breaking in sharply, “I 
trust you are getting all of this down. I wish to warn 
you, ladies and gentlemen, that I expect to overthrow 
the will on the ground that there is insanity on both 
sides. You’ll oblige me by uttering just what you feel.” 


MR. SAUNDERS HAS A PLAN 147 

“Why, this is perfectly ridiculous,” cried Lady Agnes. 
“Our souls are not our own.” 

“Your minds are the only things I am interested in,” 
said Britt calmly. 

“My plan is very simple — ” began Saunders helplessly. 

“Demmed simple,” growled Deppingham. 

“We are living on an island where polygamy is prac- 
tised and tolerated. Why can’t we take advantage of the 
custom and beat the natives at their own game? That’s 
the ticket !” 

Of course, this proposition, simple as it sounded, 
brought forth a storm of laughter and expostulation, 
but Saunders held his ground. He listened to a dozen 
jeering remarks in patient dignity, and then got the 
floor once more. 

“You have only to embrace Mohammedanism or Pagan- 
ism, or whatever it is, temporarily. Just long enough to 
get married and comply with the terms. Then, I dare- 
say, you could resume your Christian doctrine once more, 
after a few weeks, I’d say, and the case is won.” 

“I pay Lady Deppingham the compliment by saying 
that it would be most difficult for me to become a Chris- 
tian again,” said Browne smoothly, bowing to the flushed 
Englishwoman. 

“How very sweet of you,” she said, with a grimace 
which made Drusilla shiver with annoyance. 

“You don’t need to live together, of course,” floundered 
Saunders, getting rather beyond his depth. 

“Well, that’s a concession on your part,” said Mrs. 
Browne, a flash in her eye. 

“I never heard of such an asinine proposition,” sput- 
tered Deppingham. Saunders went completely under at 
that. 

“On the other hand,” he hastened to remark, “I’m sure 
it would be quite legal if you did live to ” 


148 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Stop him, for heaven’s sake,” screamed Lady Agnes, 
bursting into uncontrollable laughter. 

“Stop him? Why?” demanded her husband, suddenly 
seeing what he regarded as a rare joke. “Let’s hear him 
out. By Jove, there’s more to it than I thought. Go on, 
Saunders.” 

“Of course, if you are going to be nasty about it — ” 
began Saunders in a huff. 

“I can’t see anything nasty about it,” said Browne. 
“I’ll admit that our wife and our husband may decide to 
be stubborn and unreasonable, but it sounds rather at- 
tractive to me.” 

“Robert!” from his wife. 

“He’s only joking, Mrs. Browne,” explained Depping- 
ham magnanimously. “Now, let me understand you, 
Saunders. You say they can be married according to the 
customs — which, I take it, are the laws — of the islanders. 
Wouldn’t they be remanded for bigamy sooner or 
later?” 

“They don’t bother the Mormons, do they, Mr. 
Browne?” asked Saunders triumphantly. “Well, who is 
going to object among us?” 

“I am !” exclaimed Deppingham. “Your plan provides 
Browne with two charming wives and gives me but one. 
There’s nothing to compel Mrs. Browne to marry me.” 

“But, my lord,” said Saunders, “doesn’t the plan give 
Lady Deppingham two husbands? It’s quite a fair di- 
vision.” 

“It would make Lord Deppingham my husband-in-law, 
I imagine,” said Drusilla quaintly. “I’ve always had a 
horror of husbands-in-law.” 

“And you would be my wife-in-law,” supplemented 
Lady Agnes. “How interesting !” 

“Saunders,” said Deppingham soberly, “I must oppose 
your plan. It’s quite unfair to two innocent and unin- 


MR. SAUNDERS HAS A PLAN 149 

volved parties. What have we done that we should be 
exempt from polygamy?” 

“You are not exempt,” exclaimed the harassed solicitor. 
“You are merely not obliged to, that’s all. You can do 
as you choose about it, I’m sure. I’m sorry my plan 
causes so much levity. It is meant for the good of our 
cause. The will doesn’t say how many wives Mr. Browne 
shall have. It simply says that Agnes Ruthven shall be 
his wife. He isn’t restricted, you know. He can be a 
polygamist if he likes. I ask Mr. Britt if there is any- 
thing in the document which specifically says he shall not 
have more than one wife. Polygamy is quite legal in the 
United States, and he is an American citizen. I read 
about a Mormon chap marrying a whole Sunday-school 
class not long ago.” 

“You’re right,” said Britt. “The will doesn’t specify. 
But, my dear Saunders, you are overlooking your own 
client in this plan.” 

“I don’t quite understand, Mr. Britt.” 

“As I understand the laws on this island — the church 
laws at least — a man can have as many wives as he likes. 
Well, that’s all very well for Mr. Browne. But isn’t it also 
a fact that a woman can have no more than one husband? 
Lady Deppingham has one husband. She can’t take an- 
other without first getting rid of this one.” 

“And, I say, Saunders,” added Deppingham, “the na- 
tive way of disposing of husbands is rather trying, I’ve 
heard. Six or seven jabs with a long knife is the most 
approved way, isn’t it, Britt?” 

“Imagine Lady Deppingham going to the altar all cov- 
ered with gore !” said Britt. 

“Saunders,” said Deppingham, arising and lighting a 
fresh cigarette, “you have gone clean daft. You’re loony 
with love. You’ve got marriage on the brain. I’d advise 
you to take some one for it.” 


150 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Do you mean that for me, Lord Deppingham?” de- 
manded Miss Pelham sharply. She glared at him and 
then slammed her note book on the table. “You can josh 
Mr. Saunders, but you can’t josh me. I’m sick of this 
job. Get somebody else to do your work after this. I’m 
through.” 

“Oh !” exclaimed every one in a panic. It took nearly 
ten minutes to pacify the ruffled stenographer. She 
finally resumed her place at the table, but her chin was in 
the air and she turned the pages with a vehemence that 
left nothing to the imagination. 

“I can arrange everything, my lady, so that the cere- 
mony will be regular,” pleaded the unhappy Saunders. 
“You have only to go through the form ” 

“But what kind of a form does she follow in stabbing 
me to mincemeat ? That’s the main law point,” said Dep- 
pingham. “You seem to forget that I am still alive.” 

“Perhaps we could arrange for a divorce all round,” 
cried Saunders, suddenly inspired. 

“On what grounds?” laughed Browne. 

“Give me time,” said the lawyer. 

“It’s barely possible that there is no divorce law in 
Japat,” remarked Britt, keenly enjoying his confrere’s 
misery. 

“Are you quite sure?” 

“Reasonably. If there was such a law, I’ll bet my head 
two-thirds of the men in Aratat would be getting rid of 
wives before night.” 

Britt, after this remark, sat very still and thoughtful. 
He was turning over the divorce idea in his mind. He 
had ridiculed the polygamy scheme, but the divorce prop- 
osition might be managed. 

“I’m tired,” said Lady Deppingham suddenly. She 
yawned and stretched her arms. “It’s been very enter- 
taining, Saunders, but, really, I think we’d better dress 


MR. SAUNDERS HAS A PLAN 


151 


for dinner. Come, Mr. Browne, shall we look for the 
Princess ?” 

“With pleasure, if you’ll promise to spare Depping- 
ham’s life.” 

“On condition that you will spare Deppingham’s wife,” 
very prettily and airily. Mrs. Browne laughed with 
amazing good grace, but there was a new expression in 
her eyes. 

“Your ladyship,” called Saunders desperately, “do you 
Approve of my plan? It’s only a subterfuge ” 

“Heartily !” she exclaimed, with one of her rarest 
1 \ughs. “The only objection that I can see to it is that 
it leaves out my husband and Mrs. Browne. They are 
ve yy nice people, Saunders, and you should be more con- 
sidcrate of them. Come, Mr. Browne.” She took the 
American’s arm and gaily danced from the room. Lord 
Deppingham’s eyes glowed with pride in his charming 
wife as he followed with the heartsick Drusilla. Britt 
sauntered slowly out and down the stairway, glancing 
back bat once at the undone Saunders. 

“I would have won them over if Britt had not inter- 
fered,” almost wailed little Mr. Saunders, his eyes glazed 
with mortification. 

“I’m getting to hate that man,” said Miss Pelham loy- 
ally. “And the others ! They give me a pain ! Don’t 
mind them, Tommy, dear.” 

Lady Deppingham and Browne came upon the Princess 
quite unexpectedly. She was in the upper gallery, lean- 
ing against the stone rail and gazing steadily through 
the field glasses in the direction of the bungalow. They 
held back and watched her, unseen. The soft light of 
early evening fell upon her figure as she stood erect, lithe 
and sinuous in the open space between the ivy-clad posts ; 
her face and hands were soft tinted by the glow from the 
reflecting east, her hair was like a bronze relief against 


152 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


the dark green of the mountain. She was dressed in 
white — a modish gown of rich Irish lace. One instantly 
likened this rare young creature to a rare old painting. 

Genevra smiled securely in her supposed aloofness from 
the world. Then, suddenly moved by a strange impulse, 
she gently waved her handkerchief, as if in greeting to 
some one far off in the gloaming. The action was a mis- 
chievous one, no doubt, and it had its consequences — 
rather sudden and startling, if the observers were to 
judge by her subsequent movements. She lowered the 
glass instantly ; there was a quick catch in her breath — 
as if a laugh had been checked ; confusion swept over her, 
and she drew back into the shadows as a guilty child 
might have done. They distinctly heard her murmur as 
she crossed the flags and disappeared through the French 
window, without seeing them: 

“Oh, dear, what a crazy thing to do !” 

Genevra, peering through the glasses, had discovered 
the figure of Chase on the bungalow porch. She was 
amused to find that he, from his distant post, was also 
regarding the chateau through a pair of glasses. A 
spirit of adventure, risk, mischief, as uncontrolled as 
breath itself, impelled her to flaunt her handkerchief. 
That treacherous spirit deserted her most shamelessly 
when her startled eyes saw that he was waving a response. 
She laid awake for a long time that night wondering 
what he would think of her for that wretched bit of frivol- 
ity. Then at last a new thought came to her relief, but 
it did not give her the peace of mind that she desired. 

He may have mistaken her for Lady Deppingham. 


CHAPTER XVI 


TWO CALLS FROM THE ENEMY 

Deppingham was up and about quite early the next 
morning — that is, quite early for him. He had his rolls 
and coffee and strolled out in the shady park for a smoke. 
The Princess, whose sense of humiliation had not been 
lessened by the fitful sleep of the night before, was walk- 
ing in the shade of the trees on the lower terrace, beyond 
the fountains and the artificial lake. A great straw hat, 
borrowed from Lady Agnes, shaded her face from the 
glare of the mid-morning sun. Farther up the slope, one 
of the maids was playing with the dogs. She waved her 
hand gaily and paused to wait for him. 

“I was thinking of you,” she said in greeting, as he 
came up. 

“How nice you are,” he said. “But, my dear, is it wise 
in you to be thinking of us handsome devils P It’s a most 
dangerous habit — thinking of other men.” 

“But, Deppy, dear, the Prince isn’t here,” she said, 
falling into his humour. “That makes quite a differ- 
ence, doesn’t it?” 

“Your logic is splendid. Pray resume your thoughts of 
me — if they were pleasant and agreeable. I’ll not blow 
on you to Karl.” 

“I was just thinking what a lucky fellow you are to 
have such a darling as Agnes for a wife.” 

“You might as well say that Agnes ought to feel set 
up because Pong has a nice coat. By the way, I have 
a compliment for you — no, not one of their beastly trade- 
lasts! Browne says your hair is more beautiful than 
Pong’s. That’s quite a compliment. Titian never even 
dreamed of hair like Pong’s.” 


154 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“You know, Deppy,” she said with a pout, “I am very 
unhappy about my hair. It is quite red. I don’t see why 
I should have hair like that of a red cocker. It seems 
so animalish.” 

“Rubbish! Why should you complain? Look at my 
hair. It’s been likened more than once to that of a 
jersey cow.” 

“Oh, how I adore jersey cows! Now, I wouldn’t mind 
that a bit.” 

They were looking toward the lower gates while carry- 
ing on this frivolous conversation. A man had just en- 
tered and was coming toward them. Both recognised the 
tall figure in grey flannels. Deppingham’s emotion was 
that of undisguised amazement ; Genevra’s that of con- 
fusion and embarrassment. She barely had recovered 
her lost composure when the newcomer was close upon 
them. 

There was nothing in the manner of Chase, however, to 
cause the slightest feeling of uneasiness. He was frank- 
ness itself. His smile was one of apology, almost of en- 
treaty; his broad grass helmet was in his hand and his 
bow was one of utmost deference. 

“I trust I am not intruding,” he said as he came up. 
His gaze was as much for Deppingham as for the Prin- 
cess, his remark quite impersonal. 

“Not at all, not at all,” said Deppingham quickly, 
his heart leaping to the conclusion that the way to the 
American bar was likely to be opened at last. “Charmed 
to have you here, Mr. Chase. You’ve been most unneigh- 
bourly. Have you been presented to her Highness, the — 
Oh, to be sure. Of course you have. Stupid of 
me.” 

“We met ages ago,” she said with an ingenuous smile, 
which would have disarmed Chase if he had been prepared 
for anything else. As a matter of fact, he had ap- 


TWO CALLS FROM THE ENEMY 155 

proached her in the light of an adventurer who expects 
nothing and grasps at straws. 

“In the dark ages,” said he so ruefully that her smile 
grew. He had come, in truth, to ascertain why her hus- 
band had not come with her. 

“But not the forgotten variety, I fancy,” said Dep- 
pingham shrewdly. 

“It would be impossible for the Princess to forget the 
greatest of all fools,” said Chase. 

“He was no worse than other mortals,” said she. 

“Thank you,” said Chase. Then he turned to Lord 
Deppingham. “My visit requires some explanation, 
Lord Deppingham. You have said that I am unneigh- 
bourly. No doubt you appreciate my reasons. One has 
to respect appearances,” with a dry smile. “When one 
is in doubt he must do as the Moslems do, especially if 
the Moslems don’t want him to do as he wants to do.” 

“No doubt you’re right, but it sounds a bit involved,” 
murmured Deppingham. “Now that you are here you 
must do as the Moslems don’t. That’s our Golden Rule. 
We’ll consider the visit explained, but not curtailed. 
Lady Deppingham will be delighted to see you. Are 
you ready to come in, Princess?” 

They started toward the chateau, keeping well in the 
shade of the boxed trees, the Princess between the two 
men. 

“I say, Chase, do you mind relieving my fears a bit? 
With all due respect to your estimable clients, it occurs 
to me that they are likely to break over the traces at any, 
moment, and raise the very old Harry at somebody else’s 
expense. I’d like to know if my head is really safe. 
Since your experience the other night, I’m a bit appre- 
hensive.” 

“I came to see you in regard to that very thing, Lord 
Deppingham. I don’t want to alarm you, but I do not 


156 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


like the appearance of things. They don’t trust me 
and they hate you^-quite naturally. I’m rather sorry 
that our British man-of-war is out of reach. Pray, don’t 
be alarmed, Princess. It is most improbable that any- 
thing evil will happen. And, in any event, we can hold 
out against them until relief comes.” 

“We?” demanded Deppingham. 

“Certainly. If it comes to an assault of any kind upon 
the chateau, I trust that I may be considered as one of 
you. I won’t serve assassins and bandits — at least, not 
after they’ve got beyond my control. Besides, if the 
worst should come, they won’t discriminate in my 
favour.” 

“Why do you stay here, Mr. Chase?” asked the Prin- 
cess. “You admit that they do not like you or trust 
you. Why do you stay?” 

“I came out here to escape certain consequences,” said 
he candidly. “I’ll stay to enjoy the uncertain ones. I 
am not in the least alarmed on my own account. The 
object of my visit, Lord Deppingham, is to ask you 
to be on your guard up here. After the next steamer 
arrives, and they learn that Sir John will not withdraw 
me in submission to Rasula’s demand, with the additional 
news that your solicitors have filed injunctions and have 
begun a bitter contest that may tie up the estate for 
years — then, I say, we may have trouble. It is best 
that you should know what to expect. I am not a traitor 
to my cause, in telling you this; it is no more than I 
would expect from you were the conditions reversed. 
Moreover, I do not forget that you gave me the man-of- 
war opportunity. That was rather good fun.” 

“It’s mighty decent in you, Chase, to put us on our 
guard. Would you mind talking it over with Browne 
and me after luncheon? You’ll stay to luncheon, of 
course ?” 


TWO CALLS FROM THE ENEMY 157 

“Thank you. It may be my death sentence, but I’ll 
stay.” 

In the wide east gallery they saw Lady Deppingham 
and Bobby Browne, deeply engrossed in conversation. 
They were seated in the shade of the wistaria, and the 
two were close upon them before they heard their voices. 
Deppingham started and involuntarily allowed his hand 
to go to his temple, as if to check the thought that 
flitted through his brain. 

“Good Lord,” he said to himself, “is it possible that 
they are considering that demmed Saunders’s proposi- 
tion ? Surely they can’t be thinking of that !” 

As he led the way across the green, Browne’s voice came 
to them distinctly. He was saying earnestly: 

“The mere fact that we have come out to this blessed 
isle is a point in favour of the islanders. Chase won’t 
overlook it and you may be sure Sir John Brodney is 
making the most of it. Our coming is a guarantee that 
we consider the will valid. It is an admission that we 
regard it as sound. If not, why should we recognise * 
its provisions, even in the slightest detail? Britt is look- 
ing for hallucinations and all ” 

“Sh !” came in a loud hiss from somewhere near at hand, 
and the two in the gallery looked down with startled 
eyes upon the distressed face of Lord Deppingham. 
They started to their feet at once, astonishment and 
wonder in their faces. They could scarcely believe their 
eyes. The Enemy ! 

He was smiling broadly as he lifted his helmet, smiling 
in spite of the discomfort that showed so plainly in 
Deppingham’s manner. 

Chase was warmly welcomed by the two heirs. Lady 
Agnes was especially cordial. Her eyes gleamed joy- 
ously as she lifted them to meet his admiring gaze. She 
was amazingly pretty. The conviction that Chase had 


158 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


mistaken her for Lady Agnes, the evening before, took 
a fresh grasp upon the mind of the Princess Genevra. 
A shameless wave of relief surged through her heart. 

Chase was presented to Drusilla Browne, who appeared 
suddenly upon the scene, ' coming from no one knew 
where. There was a certain strained look in the Bos- 
ton woman’s face and a suspicious redness near the 
bridge of her little nose. As she had not yet acquired 
the Boston habit of wearing glasses, whether she needed 
them or not, the irritation could hardly be attributed to 
tight pince nez. Genevra made up her mind on the in- 
stant that Drusilla was making herself unhappy over her 
good-looking husband’s attentions to his co-legatee. 

“It’s very good of you,” said the Enemy, after all of 
them had joined in the invitation. There was a peculiar 
twinkle in his eye as he asked this rather confounding 
question : “Why is it that I am more fortunate than your 
own attorneys ? I am but a humble lawyer, after all, no 
better than they. Would you mind telling me why I 
am honoured by an invitation to sit at the table with 
you?” The touch of easy sarcasm was softened by the 
frank smile that went with it. Deppingham, having been 
the first to offend, after a look of dismay at his wife, felt 
it his duty to explain. 

“It’s — it’s — er — oh, yes, it’s because you’re a diplo- 
mat,” he finally remarked in triumph. It was a grand 
recovery, thought he. “Saunders is an ass and Britt 
would be one if Browne could only admit it, as I do. 
Rubbish! Don’t let that trouble you. Eh, Browne?” 

“Besides,” said Bobby Browne breezily, “I haven’t 
heard of your clients inviting you to lunch, Mr. Chase. 
The cases are parallel.” 

“I’m not so sure about his clients’ wives,” said Dep- 
pingham, with a vast haw-haw ! Chase looked extremely 
uncomfortable. 


TWO CALLS FROM THE ENEMY 159 


“I am told that some of them are very beautiful,” said 
Genevra sedately. 

“Other men’s wives always are, I’ve discovered,” said 
Chase gallantly. 

The party had moved over to the great stone steps 
which led down into the gardens. Chase was standing 
beside Lady Deppingham and both of them were looking 
toward his distant bungalow. He turned to the Princess 
with the remark: 

“That is my home, Princess. It is the first time I have 
seen it from your point of view, Lady Deppingham. I 
must say that it doesn’t seem as far from the chateau 
to the bungalow as it does from the bungalow to the 
chateau. There have been times when the chateau 
seemed to be thousands of miles away.” 

“When in reality it was at your very feet,” she said 
with a bright look into his eyes. For some unaccount- 
able reason, Genevra resented that look and speech. 
Perhaps it was because she felt the rift of an under- 
current. 

“Is that really where you live ?” she asked, so innocently 
that Chase had difficulty in controlling his expression. 

At that instant something struck sharply against the 
stone column above Chase’s head. At least three persons 
saw the little puff of smoke in the hills far to the right. 
Every one heard the distant crack of a rifle. The bullet 
had dropped at Chase’s feet before the sound of the re- 
port came floating to their ears. No one spoke as he 
stooped and picked up the warm, deadly missile. Turn- 
ing it over in his fingers, an ugly thing to look at, he 
said coolly, although his cheek had gone white: 

“With Von Blitz’s compliments, ladies and gentlemen. 
He is calling on me, by proxy.” 

“Good God, Chase,” cried Browne, “they’re trying to 
murder us. Get back, every one! Inside the doors!” 


160 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


The women, white-faced and silent for the moment, 
turned to follow the speaker. 

“I’m sorry to bring my troubles to your door,” said 
Chase. “It was meant for me, not for any of you. The 
man who fired that did not intend to kill me. He was 
merely giving voice to his pain and regret at seeing me 
in such bad company.” He was smiling calmly and did 
not take a single step to follow them to safety. 

“Come in, Chase ! Don’t stand out there to be shot at.” 
“I’ll stay here for a few minutes, Mr. Browne, if you 
don’t mind, just to convince you all that the shot was 
not intended to kill. They’re not ready to kill me yet. 
I’m sure Lord Deppingham will understand. He has 
been shot at often enough since he came to the island.” 

“By Jove, I should rather say I have,” blurted out Dep- 
pingham. “ ’Pon my word, they had a shot at me every 
time I tried to pluck a flower at the roadside. I’ve got so 
used to 'it that I resent it when they don’t have a try at me.” 
“Think it was Von Blitz?” asked Browne. 

“No. He couldn’t hit the chateau at two hundred 
yards. It is a native. They shoot like fury.” He 
lighted a cigarette and coolly leaned against the column, 
his gaze bent on the spot where the smoke had been seen. 
The others were grouped inside the doors, where they 
could see without being seen. A certain sense of horror 
possessed all of the watchers. It was as if they were 
waiting to see him fall with a bullet in his breast — 
executed before their eyes. Several minutes passed. 

“For heaven’s sake, why does he stand there?” cried 
the Princess at last. “I can endure it no longer. It 
may be as he says it is, but, it is foolhardy to stand 
there and taunt the pride of that marksman. I can’t stay 

here and wait for it to come. How can ” 

“He’s been there for ten minutes, Princess,” said 
Browne. “Plenty of time for another try.” 


TWO CALLS FROM THE ENEMY 161 


“I am not afraid to stand beside him,” said Lady Agnes 
suddenly. She had conquered her dread and saw the 
chance for something theatrical. Her husband grasped 
her arm as she started toward the Enemy. 

“None of that, Aggie,” he said sharply. 

Before they were aware of her intention, the Princess 
left the shelter and boldly walked across the open space 
to the side of the man. He started and opened his lips 
to give vent to a sharp command. 

“It is so easy to be a hero, Mr. Chase, when one is quite 
sure there is no real danger,” she said, with distinct irony 
in her tones. “One can afford to be melodramatic if 
he knows his part so well as you know yours.” 

Chase felt his face burn. It was a direct declaration 
that he had planned the whole affair in advance. He 
flicked the ashes from his cigarette and then tossed it 
away, hesitating long before replying. 

“Nevertheless, I have the greatest respect for the cour- 
age which brings you to my side. I daresay you are 
quite justified in your opinion of me. It all must seem 
very theatrical to you. I had not thought of it in that 
light. I shall now retire from the centre of the stage. It 
will be perfectly safe for you to remain here — just as 
it was for me.” He was leaving her without another 
word or look. She repented. 

“I am sorry for what I said,” she said eagerly. 
“And — ” she looked up at the hills with a sudden widen- 
ing of her eyes — “I think I shall not remain.” 

He waited for her and they crossed to the entrance 
together. 

Luncheon was quite well over before the spirits of the 
party reacted from the depression due to the shooting. 
Chase made light of the occurrence, but sought to im- 
press upon the others the fact that it was prophetic of 
more serious events in the future. In a perfectly cold- 


162 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


blooded manner he told them that the islanders might 
rise against them at any time, overstepping the bounds 
of England’s law in a return to the primeval law of 
might. He advised the occupants of the chateau to 
exercise extreme caution at all times. 

“The people are angry and they will become desperate. 
Their interests are mine, of course. I am perfectly sin- 
cere in saying to you, Lady Deppingham, and to you, 
Mr. Browne, that in time they will win out against you 
in the courts. But they are impatient ; they are not the 
kind who can wait and be content. It is impossible for 
you to carry out the provisions of the will, and they 
know it. That is why they resent the delays that are 
impending.” 

Deppingham told him of the scheme proposed by Saun- 
ders, treating it as a vast joke. Chase showed a mo- 
mentary sign of uneasiness, but covered it instantly by 
laughing with the others. Strange to say, he had been 
instructed from London to look out for just such a coup 
on the part of the heirs. Not that the marriage could 
be legally established, but that it might create a complica- 
tion worth avoiding. 

He could not help looking from Lady Deppingham to 
Bobby Browne, a calculating gleam in his grey eyes. 
How very dangerous she could be ! He was quite ready 
to feel very sorry for pretty Mrs. Browne. Browne, of 
course, revealed no present symptom of surrender to the 
charms of his co-legatee. Later on, he was to recall this 
bit of calculation and to enlarge upon it from divers 
points of view. 

Just now he was enjoying himself for the first time 
since his arrival in Japat. He sat opposite to the Prin- 
cess; his eyes were refreshing themselves after months 
of fatigue; his blood was coursing through new veins. 
And yet, his head was calling his heart a fool. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE PRINCESS GOES GALLOPING 

A week passed — an interesting week in which few things 
happened openly, but in which the entire situation under- 
went a subtle but complete change. The mail steamer 
had come and gone. It brought disconcerting news 
from London. Chase was obliged to tell the islanders 
that notice of a contest had been filed. The lineal heirs 
had pooled their issues and were now fighting side by side. 
The matter would be in chancery for months, even years. 
He could almost feel the gust of rage and disappointment 
that swept over the island — although not a word came 
from the lips of the sullen population. The very silence 
was foreboding. 

He did not visit the chateau during that perplexing 
week. It was hard, but he resolutely kept to the path of 
duty, disdaining the pleasures that beckoned to him. 
Every day he saw and talked with Britt and Saunders. 
They, as well as the brisk Miss Pelham, gave him the 
“family news” from the chateau. Saunders, when he was 
not moping with the ague of love, indulged in rare ex- 
hibitions of joy over the turn affairs were taking with 
his client and Bobby Browne. It did not require extraor- 
dinary keenness on Chase’s part to gather that her 
ladyship and Browne had suddenly decided to engage in 
what he would call a mild flirtation, but what Saunders 
looked upon as a real attack of love. 

“If I had the nerve, I’d call Browne good and hard,” 
said Britt, over his julep. “It isn’t right. It isn’t de- 
cent. No telling what it will come to. The worst of 
it is that his wife doesn’t blame him. She blames her. 
They disappear for hours at a time and they’ve always 


164 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


got their heads together. I’ve noticed it for a monthe 
but it’s got worse in the last week. Poor little Drusilla. 
She’s from Boston, Chase, and can’t retaliate. Besides, 
Deppingham wouldn’t take notice if she tried.” 

“There’s one safeguard,” said Chase. “They can’t 
elope on this island.” 

“They can’t, eh? Why, man, they could elope in the 
chateau and nobody could overtake ’em. You’ve no idea 
how big it is. The worst of it is, Deppingham has got 
an idea that they may try to put him out of the way — 
him and Drusilla. Awful, isn’t it?” 

“Perfect rot, Britt. You’ll find that it turns out all 
right in the end. I’d bank on Lady Deppingham’s 
cool little head. Browne may be mad, but she 
isn’t.” 

“It won’t help me any unless both of ’em are mad,” 
said Britt, with a wry face. “And, say, by the way, 
Saunders is getting to dislike you intensely.” 

“I can’t help it if he loves the only stenographer on 
the island,” said Chase easily. “You seem to be the only 
one who isn’t in hot water all the time, Britt.” 

“Me and the Princess,” said Britt laconically. Chase 
looked up quickly, but the other’s face was as straight 
as could be. “If you were a real gentleman you would 
come around once in a while and give her something to 
talk to, instead of about.” 

“Does she talk about me?” quite steadily. 

“They all do. I’ve even heard the white handmaidens 
discussing you in glowing terms. You’re a regular 
matinee hero up there, my ” 

“Selim !” broke in Chase. The Arab came to the table 
immediately. “Don’t put so much liquor in Mr. Britt’s 
drinks after this. Mostly water.” Britt grinned 
amiably. 

They sipped through their straws in silence for quite 


THE PRINCESS GOES GALLOPING 165 


a while. Both were thinking of the turn affairs were 
taking at the chateau. 

“I say, Britt, you’re not responsible for this affair be- 
tween Browne and Lady Deppingham, are you?” de- 
manded Chase abruptly. 

“I? What do you mean?” 

“I was just wondering if you could have put Browne up 
to the game in the hope that a divorce or two might 
solve a very difficult problem.” 

“Now that you mention it, I’m going to look up the 
church and colonial divorce laws,” said Britt non-com- 
mittally, after a moment. 

“I advise you to hurry,” said Chase coolly. “If you 
can divorce and marry ’em inside of four weeks, with 
no court qualified to try the case nearer than India, you 
are a wonder.” 

Chase was in the habit of visiting the mines two or 
three times a week during work hours. The next morn- 
ing after his conversation with Britt, he rode out to the 
mines. When he reached the brow of the last hill, over- 
looking the wide expanse in which the men toiled, he 
drew rein sharply and stared aghast at what lay be- 
fore him. 

Instead of the usual activity, there was not a man in 
sight. It was some time before his bewildered brain 
could grasp the meaning of the puzzle. Selim, who rode 
behind, came up and without a word directed his master’s 
attention to the long ridge of trees that bordered the 
broken hillsides. Then he saw the miners. Five hun- 
dred half-naked brown men were congregated in the shade 
of the trees, far to the right. By the aid of his glasses 
he could see that one of their number was addressing 
them in an earnest, violent harangue. It was not diffi- 
cult, even at that distance, to recognise the speaker as 
Von Blitz. From time to time, the silent watchers saw 


166 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


the throng exhibit violent signs of emotion. There were 
frequent gesticulations, occasional dances; the faint 
sound of shouts came across the valley. 

Chase shuddered. He knew what it meant. He 
turned to Selim, who sat beside him like a bronze statue, 
staring hard at the spectacle. 

“How about Allah now, Selim?” he asked sententiously. 
“Allah is great, Allah is good,” mumbled the Moslem 
youth, but without heart. 

“Do you think He can save me from those dogs?” asked 
the master, with a kindly smile. 

“Sahib, do not go among them to-day,” implored 
Selim impulsively. 

“They are expecting me, Selim. If I don’t come, they 
will know that I have funked. They’ll know I am 
afraid of them.” 

“Do not go to-day,” persisted Selim doggedly. Sud- 
denly he started, looking intently to the left along the 
line of the hill. Chase followed the direction of his 
gaze and uttered a sharp exclamation of surprise. 

Several hundred yards away, outlined against the blue 
sky beyond the knob, stood the motionless figure of a 
horse and its rider — a woman in a green habit. Chase 
could hardly believe his eyes. It did not require a second 
glance to tell him who the rider was ; he could not be mis- 
taken in that slim, proud figure. Without a moment’s 
hesitation he turned his horse’s head and rode rapidly 
toward her. She had left the road to ride out upon the 
crest of the green knob. Chase was in the mood to curse 
her temerity. 

As he came up over the slope, she turned in the saddle 
to watch his approach. He had time to see that two 
grooms from the stables were in the road below her. 
There was a momentary flash of surprise and confusion 
in her eyes, succeeded at once by a warm glow of excite- 


THE PRINCESS GOES GALLOPING 167 


ment. She smiled as he drew up beside her, not noticing 
his unconscious frown. 

“So those are the fabulous mines of Japat,” she said 
gaily, without other greeting. “Where is the red glow 
from the rubies?” 

His horse had come to a standstill beside hers. Scarcely 
a foot separated his boot from her animal’s side. If she 
detected the serious look in his face, she chose to ignore it. 

“Who gave you permission to ride so far from the 
chateau?” he demanded, almost harshly. She looked at 
him in amazement. 

“Am I a trespasser?” she asked coldly. 

“I beg your pardon,” he said quickly. “I did not mean 
to offend. Don’t you know that it is not safe for you 
to ” 

“Nonsense!” she exclaimed. “I am not afraid of your 
shadows. Why should they disturb me?” 

“Look !” He pointed to the distant assemblage. 
“Those are not shadows. They are men and they are 
making ready to transform themselves into beasts. Be- 
fore long they will strike. Von Blitz and Rasula have 
sunk my warships. You must understand that it is dan- 
gerous to leave the chateau on such rides as this. Come ! 
We will start back together — at once.” 

“I protest, Mr. Chase, that you have no right to say 
what I shall do or ” 

“It isn’t a question of right. You are nearly ten miles 
from the chateau, in the most unfrequented part of the 
island. Some day you will not return to your friends. 
It will be too late to hunt for you then.” 

“How very thrilling !” she said with a laugh. 

“I beg of you, do not treat it so lightly,” he said, so 
sharply that she flushed. He was looking intently in the 
direction of the men. She was not slow to see that their 
position had been discovered by the miners. “They have 


168 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


seen us,” he said briefly. “It is quite possible that they 
do not mean to do anything desperate at this time, but 
you can readily see that they will resent this proof of 
spying on our part. They mistake me for one of the 
men from the chateau. Will you come with me now?” 

“It seems so absurd — but I will come, of course. I 
have no desire to cause you any uneasiness.” 

As they rode swiftly back to the tree-lined road, a 
faint chorus of yells came to them across the valley. 
For some distance they rode without speaking a word 
to each other. They had traversed two miles of the soft 
dirt road before Chase discovered that Selim was the 
only man following them. The two men who had come 
out with the Princess were not in sight. He mentioned 
the fact to her, with a peculiar smile on his lips. They 
slackened the pace and Chase called Selim up from be- 
hind. The little Arab’s face was a study in its display 
of unwonted emotion. 

“Excellency,” he replied, in answer to Chase’s ques- 
tion, his voice trembling with excitement, “they left me 
at the bend, a mile back. They will not return to the 
chateau.” 

“The dogs ! So, you see, Princess, your escort was not 
to be trusted,” said Chase grimly. 

“But they have stolen the horses,” she murmured irrele- 
vantly. “They belong to the chateau stables.” 

“Which direction did they take, Selim?” 

“They rode off by the Carter’s highway, Excellency, 
toward Aratat.” 

“It may not appeal to your vanity, your Highness, but 
it is my duty to inform you that they have gone to re- 
port our clandestine meeting.” 

“Clandestine! What do ydu mean, sir?” 

“The islanders are watching me like hawks. Every 
time I am seen with any one from the chateau, they add a 


THE PRINCESS GOES GALLOPING 169 


fresh nail to the coffin they are preparing for me. It’s 
really more serious than you imagine. I must, therefore, 
forbid you to ride outside of the park.” 

They rode swiftly for another mile, silence being un- 
broken between them. She was trying to reconcile her 
pride to the justice of his command. 

“I daresay you are right, Mr. Chase,” she said at last, 
quite frankly. “I thank you.” 

“I am glad that you understand,” he said simply. His 
gaze was set straight before him, keen, alert, anxious. 
They were riding through a dark stretch of forest; the 
foliage came down almost to their faces; there was an 
almost impenetrable green wall on either side of them. 
He knew, and she was beginning to suspect, that danger 
lurked in the peaceful, sweet-smelling shades. 

“I begin to fear, Mr. Chase,” she said, with a faint 
smile, “that Lady Deppingham deceived me in suggest- 
ing Japat as a rest cure. It may interest you to know 
that the court at Rapp-Thorberg has been very gay this 
winter. Much has happened in the past few months.” 

“I know,” he said briefly, almost bitterly. 

“My brother, Christobal, has been with us after two 
years’ absence. He came with his wife from the ends of 
the earth, and my father forgave him in good earnest. 
Christobal was very disobedient in the old days. He re- 
fused to marry the girl my father chose for him. Was 
it not foolish of him?” 

“Not if it has turned out well in the end.” 

“I daresay it has — or will. She is delightful. My 
father loves her. And my father — the Grand Duke, I 
should say — does not love those who cross him. One is 
very fortunate to have been born a prince.” He thought 
he detected a note of bitterness in this raillery. 

“I can conceive of no greater fortune than to have 
been born Prince Karl of Brabetz-” he said lightly. She 


170 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


flashed a quick glance at his face, her eyes narrowing in 
the effort to divine his humour. He saw the cloud which 
fell over her face and was suddenly silent, contrite for 
some unaccountable reason. 

“As I was saying,” she resumed, after a moment, “Lady 
Deppingham has lured me from sunshowers into the tem- 
pest. Mr. Chase,” and her face was suddenly full of 
real concern, “is there truly great danger?” 

“I fear so,” he answered. “It is only a question of 
time. I have tried to check this uprising, but I’ve failed. 
They don’t trust me. Last night Von Blitz, Rasula and 
three others came to the bungalow and coolly informed 
me that my services were no longer required. I told them 
to — to go to ” 

“I understand,” she said quickly. “It required courage 
to tell them that.” He smiled. 

“They protested friendship, but I can read very well 
as I run. But can’t we find something more agreeable 
to talk about? May I say that I have not seen a news- 
paper in three months? The world has forgotten me. 
There must be news that you can give me. I am hungry 
for it.” 

“You poor man! No newspapers! Then you don’t 
know what has happened in all these months?” 

“Nothing since before Christmas. Would you like to 
see a bit of news that I clipped from the last Paris paper 
that came into my hands?” 

“Yes,” she said, vaguely disturbed. He drew forth his 
pocketbook and took from its interior a small bit of 
paper, which he handed to her, a shamed smile in his 
eyes. She read it at a glance and handed it back. A 
faint touch of red came into her cheeks. 

“How very odd ! Why should you have kept that bit 
of paper all these months?” 

. “I will admit that the announcement of the approach- 


THE PRINCESS GOES GALLOPING 171 


ing nuptials of two persons whom I had met so casually 
may seem a strange thing to cherish, but I am a strange 
person. You have been married nearly three months,” he 
said reflectively. “Three months and two days, to be 
precise.” 

She laughed outright, a bewitching, merry laugh that 
startled him. 

“How accurate you would be,” she exclaimed. “It 
would be a highly interesting achievement, Mr. Chase, 
if it were only borne out by facts. You see, I have not 
been married so much as three minutes.” 

He stared at her, uncomprehending. 

She went on : “Do you consider it bad luck to postpone 
a wedding?” 

Involuntarily he drew his horse closer to hers. There 
was a new gleam in his eyes ; her blood leaped at the chal- 
lenge they carried. 

“Very bad luck,” he said quite steadily; “for the bride- 
groom.” 

In an instant they seemed to understand something that 
had not even been considered before. She looked away, 
but he kept his eyes fast upon her half-turned face, find- 
ing delight in the warm tint that surged so shamelessly to 
her brow. He wondered if she could hear the pounding 
of his heart above the thud of the horses’ feet. 

“We are to be married in June,” she said somewhat de- 
fiantly. Some of the light died in his eyes. “Prince 
Karl was very ill. They thought he might die. His — 
his studies — his music, I mean, proved more than he 
could carry. It — it is not serious. A nervous break- 
down,” she explained haltingly. 

“You mean that he — ” he paused before finishing the 
sentence — “collapsed ?” 

“Yes. It was necessary to postpone the marriage. He 
will be quite well again, they say — by June.” 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


172 

Chase thought of the small, nervous, excitable prince, 
and in his mind there arose a great doubt. They might 
pronounce him cured, but would it be true? “I 
hope he may be fully recovered, for your sake,” he 
managed to say. 

“Thank you.” After a long pause, she turned to him 
again and said: “We are to live in Paris for a year 
or two at least.” 

Then Chase understood. Prince Karl would not be en- 
tirely recovered in June. He did not ask, but he knew 
in some strange way that his physicians were there and 
that it would be necessary for him to be near them. 

“He is in Paris now?” 

“No,” she answered, and that was all. He waited, but 
she did not expand her confidence. 

“So it is to be in June?” he mused. 

“In June,” she said quietly. He sighed. 

“I am more than sorry that you are a princess,” he said 
boldly. 

“I am quite sure of that,” she said, so pointedly that 
he almost gasped. She was laughing comfortably, a 
mischievous gleam in her dark eyes. His laugh was as 
awkward as hers was charming. 

“You do like to be flattered,” he exclaimed at random. 
“And I shall take it upon myself to add to to-day’s 
measure.” He again drew forth his pocketbook. She 
looked on curiously. “Permit me to restore the lace 
handkerchief which you dropped some time ago. I’ve 
been keeping it for myself, but ” 

“My handkerchief?” she gasped, her thoughts going 
at once to that ridiculous incident of the balcony. “It 
must belong to Lady Deppingham.” 

“Oh, it isn’t the one you used on the balcony,” he pro- 
tested coolly. “It antedates that adventure.” 

“Balcony? I don’t understand you,” she contested. 


THE PRINCESS GOES GALLOPING 173 


“Then you are exceedingly obtuse.” 

“I never dreamed that you could see,” she confessed 
pathetically. 

“It was extremely nice in you and very presumptuous 
in me. But, your highness, this is the handkerchief you 
dropped in the Castle garden six months ago. Do you 
recognise the perfume?” 

She took it from his fingers gingerly, a soft flush of 
interest suffusing her cheek. Before she replied, she held 
the dainty bit of lace to her straight little nose. 

“You are very sentimental,” she said at last. “Would 
you care to keep it? It is of no value to me.” 

“Thanks, I will keep it.” 

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said inconsequently, stuf- 
fing the fabric in her gauntlet. “You have something 
else in that pocketbook that I should very much like to 
possess.” 

“It can’t be that Bank of England ” 

“No, no! You wrapped it in a bit of paper last week 
and placed it there for safe keeping.” 

“You mean the bullet?” 

“Yes. I should like it. To show to my friends, you 
know, when I tell them how near you were to being shot.” 
Without a word he gave her the bullet that had dropped 
at his feet on that first day at the chateau. “Thank 
you. Oh, isn’t it a horrid thing! Just to think, it 
might have struck you!” She shuddered. 

He was about to answer in his delirium when a sharp 
turn in the road brought them in view of the chateau. 
Not a hundred yards ahead of them two persons were 
riding slowly, unattended, very much occupied in them- 
selves. Their backs were toward Chase and the Prin- 
cess, but it was an easy matter to recognise them. The 
glance which shot from the Princess to Chase found a 
peculiar smile disappearing from his lips. 


174 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“I know what you are thinking,” she cried impulsively. 
“You are wrong — very wrong, Mr. Chase. Lady Dep- 
pingham is a born coquette — a born trifler. It is ridic- 
ulous to think that she can be seriously engaged in 
a ” 

“It isn’t that, Princess,” he interrupted, a dark look 
in his eyes. “I was merely wondering whether dear little 
Mrs. Browne is as happy as she might be.” 

Genevra was silent for a moment. 

“I had not thought of that,” she said soberly. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE BURNING OF THE BUNGALOW 

He went in and had tiffin with them in the hanging gar- 
den. Deppingham was surly and preoccupied. Drusilla 
Browne was unusually vivacious. At best, she was not 
volatile; her greatest accomplishment lay in the ability 
to appreciate what others had to say. This in itself is 
a treat so unusual that one feels like commending the 
woman who carries it to excess. 

Her husband, aside from a natural anxiety, was the 
same blithe optimist as ever. He showed no sign of re- 
straint, no evidence of compunction. Chase found him- 
self secretly speculating on the state of affairs. Were 
the two heirs working out a preconceived plan or were 
they, after all, playing with the fires of spring? He re- 
called several of Miss Pelham’s socialistic remarks con- 
cerning the privileges of the “upper ten,” the intolerance 
of caste and the snobbish morality which attaches folly 
to none but the girl who “works for a living.” 

Immediately after tiffin, Genevra carried Lady Dep- 
pingham off to her room. When they came forth for a 
proposed stroll in the grounds, Lady Agnes was looking 
very meek and tearful, while the Princess had about her 
the air of one who has conquered by gentleness. In the 
upper corridor, where it was dark and quiet, the wife of 
Deppingham halted suddenly and said: 

“It has been so appallingly dull, Genevra, don’t you 
understand? That’s why. Besides, it isn’t necessary for 
her to be so horrid about it. She ” 

“She isn’t horrid about it, dear. She’s most self-sacri- 
ficing.” 

“Rubbish ! She talks about the Puritans, and all that 


176 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


sort of thing. I know what she means. But, there’s no 
use talking about it. I’ll do as you say — command, I 
mean. I’ll try to be a prude. Heaven alone knows what 
a real prude is. I don’t. All this tommy-rot about 
Bobby and me wouldn’t exist if that wretched Chase man 
had been a little more affable. He never noticed us until 
you came. No wife to snoop after him and — why, my 
dear, he would have been ideal.” 

“It’s all very nice, Agnes, but you forget your hus- 
band,” said Genevra, with a tolerant smile. 

“Deppy? Oh, my dear,” and she laughed gaily once 
more. “Deppy doesn’t mind. He rather likes me to be 
nice to other men. That is, if they are nice men. In- 
deed, I don’t forget Deppy! I shall remember him to 
my dying day.” 

“Your point of view is quite different from that of a 
Boston wife, I’d suggest.” 

“Certainly. We English have a colonial policy. We’ve 
spread out, my dear.” 

“You are frivolous once more, Agnes.” 

“Genevra,” said Lady Agnes solemnly, “if you’d been 
on a barren island for five months as I have, with noth- 
ing to look at but your husband and the sunsets, you 
would not be so hard on me. I wouldn’t take Drusilla’s 
husband away from her for the world; I wouldn’t even 
look at him if he were not on the barren island, too. I’ve 
read novels in which a man and woman have been wrecked 
on a desert island and lived there for months, even years, 
in an atmosphere of righteousness. My dear, those nov- 
elists are ninnies. Nobody could be so good as all that 
without getting wings. And if they got wings they’d 
soon fly away from each other. Angels are the only 
creatures who can be quite circumspect, and they’re not 
real, after all, don’t you know. Drusilla may not know, 
it yet, but she’s not an angel, by any means; she’s real 


THE BURNING OF THE BUNGALOW 177 


and doesn’t know it, that’s all. I am real and know it 
only too well. That’s the difference. Now, come along. 
Let’s have a walk. I’m tired of men and angels. That’s 
why I want you for awhile. You’ve got no wings, 
Genevra ; but it’s of no consequence, as you have no one 
to fly away from.” 

“Or to, you might add,” laughed Genevra. 

“That’s very American. You’ve been talking to Miss 
Pelham. She’s always adding things. By the way, Mr. 
Chase sees quite a lot of her. She types for him. I 
fancy she’s trying to choose between him and Mr. 
Saunders. If you were she, dear, which would you 
choose?” 

“Mr. Saunders,” said Genevra promptly. “But if I 
were myself, I’d choose Mr. Chase.” 

“Speaking of angels, he must have wings a yard long. 
He has been chosen by an entire harem and he flies from 
them as if pursued by the devil. I imagine, however, that 
he’d be rather dangerous if his wings were to get out of 
order unexpectedly. But he’s nice, isn’t he?” 

The Princess nodded her head tolerantly. 

Her ladyship went on : “I don’t want to walk, after all. 
Let us sit here in the corridor and count the prisms in 
the chandeliers. It’s such fun. I’ve done it often. You 
can imagine how gay it has been here, dear. Have you 
heard the latest gossip? Mr. Britt has advanced a new 
theory. We are to indulge in double barrelled divorce 
proceedings. As soon as they are over, Mr. Browne and 
I are to marry. Then we are to hurry up and get an- 
other divorce. Then we marry our own husband and 
wife all over again. Isn’t it exciting? Only, of course, 
it isn’t going to happen. It would be so frightfully im- 
proper — shocking, don’t you know. You see, I should 
go on living with my divorced husband, even after I was 
married to Bobby. I’d be obliged to do that in order to 


178 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


give Bobby grounds for a divorce as soon as the estate 
is settled. There’s a whole lot more to Mr. Britt’s plan 
that I can’t remember. It’s a much gentler solution than 
the polygamy scheme that Mr. Saunders proposes ; I will 
say that for it. But Deppy has put his foot down hard. 
He says he had trouble enough getting me to marry him 
the first time; he won’t go through it again. Besides, 
he loathes grass widows, as Mrs. Browne calls them. Mr. 
Britt told him he’ll be sure to love me more than ever as 
soon as I become a guileless divorcee. Of course, it’s 
utter nonsense.” 

“A little nonsense now and then is — ” began the Prin- 
cess, and paused amiably. 

“Is Mr. Chase to stay for lunch?” asked Lady Agnes 
irrelevantly. 

“How should I know? I am not his hostess.” 

“Hoity-toity ! I’ve never known you to look like that 
before. A little dash of red sets your cheeks off — ” But 
Genevra threw up her hands in despair and started to- 
ward the stairway, her chin tilted high. Lady Agnes, 
laughing softly, followed. “It’s too bad she’s down to 
marry that horrid little Brabetz,” she said to herself, 
with a sudden wistful glance at the proud, vibrant, love- 
able creature ahead. “She deserves a better fate than 
that.” 

Genevra waited for her at the head of the stairway. 

“Agnes, I’d like you to promise that you will keep your 
avaricious claws off Mrs. Browne’s husband,” she said 
seriously. 

“I’ll try, my dear,” said Lady Agnes meekly. 

When they reached the garden, they found Depping- 
ham smoking furiously and quite alone. Chase had left 
some time before, to give warning to the English bank 
that trouble might be expected. The shadow of disap- 
pointment that flitted across Genevra’s face was not ob- 


THE BURNING OF THE BUNGALOW 179 

served by the others. Bobby Browne and his wife were 
off strolling in the lower end of the park. 

“Poor old Deppy,” cried his wife. “Pve made up my 
mind to be exceedingly nice to you for a whole day.” 

“I suppose I ought to beat you,” he said slowly. 

“Beat me? Why, pray?” 

“I received an anonymous letter this morning, telling 
me of your goings-on with Bobby Browne,” said he eas- 
ily. “It was stuck under my door by Bromley, who said 
that Miss Pelham gave it to her. Miss Pelham referred 
me to Mr. Britt and Mr. Britt urged me to keep the letter 
for future reference. I think he said it could be used as 
Exhibit A. Then he advised me to beat you only in the 
presence of witnesses.” 

“The whole household must be going mad,” cried 
Genevra with a laugh. 

“Oh, if something only would happen !” exclaimed her 
ladyship. “A riot, a massacre — anything ! It all sounds 
like a farce to you, Genevra, but you haven’t been here 
for five months, as we have.” 

As they moved away from the vine-covered nook in the 
garden, a hand parted the leaves in the balcony above and 
a dark, saturnine face appeared behind it. The two 
women would have felt extremely uncon. tortable had they 
known that a supposedly trusted servant had followed 
them from the distant corridor, where he had heard every 
word of their conversation. This secret espionage had 
been going on for days in the chateau ; scarcely a move 
was made or a word spoken by the white people that es- 
caped the attention of a swarthy spy. And, curiously 
enough, these spies were no longer reporting their dis- 
coveries to Hollingsworth Chase. 

The days passed. Hollingsworth Chase now realised 
that he no longer had authority over the natives ; they 
suffered him to come and go, but gave no heed to his sug- 


180 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


gestions. Rasula made the reports for the islanders and 
took charge of the statements from the bank. 

Every morning he rode boldly into the town, transacted 
what business he could, talked with the thoroughly dis- 
turbed bankers, and then defiantly made his way to the 
chateau. He was in love with the Princess — desperately 
in love. He understood perfectly — for he was a man of 
the world and cosmopolitan — that nothing could come of 
it. She was a princess and she was not in a story book ; 
she could not marry him. It was out of the question ; of 
that he was thoroughly convinced, even in the beginning. 

So far as Genevra was concerned, on her part it could 
mean no more than a diversion, a condescension to co- 
quetry, a simple flirtation ; it meant the passing of a few 
days, the killing of time, the pleasure of gentle conquest, 
and then — forgetfulness. All this he knew and reckoned 
with, for she was a princess and he but a plebeian passing 

b y- 

At first she revolted against the court he so plainly 
paid to her in these last few days ; it was bold, conscience- 
less, impertinent. She avoided him ; she treated him to 
a short season of disdain ; she did all in her power to re- 
buke his effrontery — and then in the end she surren- 
dered to the overpowering vanity which confronts all 
women who put the pride of caste against the pride of 
conquest. 

She decided to give him as good as he sent in this brief 
battle of folly; it mattered little who came off with the 
fewest scars, for in a fortnight or two they would go 
their separate ways, no better, no worse for the conflict. 
And, after all, it was very dull in these last days, and he 
was very attractive, and very brave, and very gallant, 
and, above all, very sensible. It required three days of 
womanly indecision to bring her to this way of looking at 
the situation. 


THE BURNING OF THE BUNGALOW 181 


They rode together in the park every morning, keeping 
well out of range of marksmen in the hills. A sense of 
freedom replaced the natural reserve that had marked 
their first encounters in this little campaign of tender- 
ness ; they gave over being afraid of each other. He was 
too shrewd, too crafty to venture an open declaration; 
too much of a gentleman to force her hand ruthlessly. 
She understood and appreciated this considerateness. 
Their conflict was with the eyes, the tone of the voice, the 
intervals of silence; no touch of the hand — nothing, ex- 
cept the strategies of Eros. 

What did it matter if a few dead impulses, a few crip- 
pled ideals, a few blasted hopes were left strewn upon the 
battlefield at the end of the fortnight? What mattered 
if there was grave danger of one or both of them re- 
ceiving heart wounds that would cling to them all their 
lives ? What did anything matter, so long as Prince Karl 
of Brabetz was not there? 

One night toward the end of this week of enchanting 
rencontres — this week of effort to uncover the vulnerable 
spot in the other’s armour — Genevra stood leaning upon 
the rail which enclosed the hanging garden. She was 
gazing abstractedly into the black night, out of which, 
far away, blinked the light in the bungalow. A dreamy 
languor lay upon her. She heard the cry of the night 
birds, the singing of woodland insects, but she was not 
aware of these persistent sounds; far below in the grassy 
court she could hear Britt conversing with Saunders and 
Miss Pelham ; behind her in the little garden, Lady Dep- 
pingham and Browne had their heads close together over 
a table on which they were playing a newly discovered 
game of “solitaire”; Deppingham and Mrs. Browne 
leaned against the opposite railing, looking down into the 
valley. The soft night wind fanned her face, bringing 
to her nostrils the scent of the fragrant forest. It was 


182 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

the first night in a week that he had missed coming to the 
chateau. 

She missed him. She was lonely. 

He had told her of the meeting that was to be held at 
the bungalow that night, at which he was to be asked 
to deliver over to Rasula’s committee the papers, the re- 
ceipts and the memoranda that he had accumulated dur- 
ing his months of employment in their behalf. She had 
a feeling of dread — a numb, sweet feeling that she could 
not explain, except that under all of it lay the proud con- 
sciousness that he was a man who had courage, a man who 
was not afraid. 

“How silly I am,” she said, half aloud in her abstrac- 
tion. 

She turned her gaze away from the blinking light in 
the hills, a queer, guilty smile on her lips. The wistful, 
shamed smile faded as she looked upon the couple who had 
given her so much trouble a week ago. She felt, with a 
hot flash of self-abasement, as if she was morally re- 
sponsible for the consequences that seemed likely to at- 
tend Lady Deppingham’s indiscretions. 

Across the garden from where she was flaying herself 
bitterly, Lady Deppingham’s husband was saying in low, 
agitated tones to Bobby Browne’s wife, with occasional 
furtive glances at the two solitaire workers: 

“Now, see here, Drusilla, I’m not saying that our — 
that is, Lady Deppingham and Bobby — are accountable 
for what has happened, but that doesn’t make it any 
more pleasant! It’s of little consequence who is trying 
to poison us, don’t you know. And all that. They 
wouldn’t do it, I’m sure, but somebody is! That’s what 

I mean, d’ye see? Lady Dep ” 

“I know my husband wouldn’t — couldn’t do such a 
thing, Lord Deppingham,” came from Drusilla’s stiff 
lips, almost as a moan. She was very miserable. 


THE BURNING OF THE BUNGALOW 183 


“Of course not, my dear Drusilla,” he protested ner- 
vously. Then suddenly, as his eye caught what he con- 
sidered a suspicious movement of Bobby’s hand as he 
placed a card close to Lady Deppingham’s fingers : 
“Demme, I — I’d rather he wouldn’t — but I beg your par- 
don, Drusilla! It’s all perfectly innocent.” 

“Of course, it’s innocent!” whispered Drusilla fiercely. 

“You know, my dear girl, I — I don’t hate your hus- 
band. You may have a feeling that I do, but ” 

“I suppose you think that I hate your wife. Well, I 
don’t! I’m very fond of her.” 

“It’s utter nonsense for us to suspect them of — Pray 
don’t be so upset, Drusilla. It’s all right ” 

“If you think I am worrying over your wife’s harmless 
affair w T ith my husband, you are very much mistaken.” 

Deppingham was silent for a long time. 

“I don’t sleep at all these night,” he said at last, miser- 
ably. She could not feel sorry for him. She could only 
feel for herself and her sleepless nights. “Drusilla, doi 
— do you think they want to get rid of us? We’re the 
obstacles, you know. We can’t help it, but we are. Some- 
body put that pill in my tea to-day. It must have been a 
servant. It couldn’t have been — er ” 

“My husband, sir?” 

“No ; my wife. You know, Drusilla, she’s not that sort. 
She has a horror of death and — ” he stopped and wiped 
his brow pathetically. 

“If the servants are trying to poison any of us, Lord 
Deppingham, it is reasonable to suspect that your wife 
and my husband are the ones they want to dispose of, not 
you and me. I don’t believe it was poison you found in 
your tea. But if it was, it was intended for one of the 
heirs.” 

“Well, there’s some consolation in that,” said Deppy, 
smiling for the first time. “It’s annoying, however, to 


184 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


go about feeling all the time that one is likely to pass 
away because some stupid ass of an assassin makes a 
blunder in giving ” 

The sharp rattle of firearms in the distance brought a 
sudden stop to his lugubrious reflections. Five, a dozen 
— a score of shots were heard. The blood turned cold in 
the veins of every one in the garden ; faces blanched sud- 
denly and all voices were hushed; a form of paralysis 
seized and held them for a full minute. 

Then the voice of Britt below broke harshly upon the 
tense, still air: “Good God! Look! It is the bunga- 
low !” 

A bright glow lighted the dark mountain side, a vivid 
red painted the trees; the smell of burning wood came 
down with the breezes. Two or three sporadic shots were 
borne to the ears of those who looked toward the blazing 
bungalow. 

“They’ve killed Chase!” burst from the stiff lips of 
Bobby Browne. 

“Damn them!” came up from below in Britt’s hoarse 
voice. 


CHAPTER XIX 


CHASE COMES FROM THE CLOUDS 

For many minutes, the watchers in the chateau stared at 
the burning bungalow, fascinated, petrified. Through 
the mind of each man ran the sudden, sharp dread that 
Chase had met death at the hands of his enemies, and yet 
their stunned sensibilities refused at once to grasp the 
full horror of the tragedy. 

Genevra felt her heart turn cold ; then something seemed 
to clutch her by the throat and choke the breath out of 
her body. Through her brain went whirling the recol- 
lection of his last words to her that afternoon : “They’ll 
find me ready if they come for trouble.” She wondered 
if he had been ready for them or if they had surprised 
him ! She had heard the shots. Chase could not have 
fired them all. He may have fired once — perhaps twice — 
that was all ! The fusilade came from the guns of many, 
not one. Was he now lying dead in that blazing — She 
screamed aloud with the thought of it ! 

“Can’t something be done?” she cried again and again, 
without taking her gaze from the doomed bungalow. She 
turned fiercely upon Bobby Browne, his countryman. 
Afterward she recalled that he stood staring as she had 
stared, Lady Deppingham clasping his arm with both of 
her hands. The glance also took in the face of Depping- 
ham. He was looking at his wife and his eyes were wide 
and glassy, but not with terror. “It may not be too late,” 
again cried the Princess. “There are enough of us here 
to make an effort, no matter how futile. He may be alive 
and trapped, up ” 

“You’re right,” shouted Browne. “He’s not the kind 
to go down with the first rush. We must go to him. We 


186 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


can get there in ten minutes. Britt! Where are the 
guns? Are you with us, Deppingham?” 

He did not wait for an answer, but dashed out of the 
garden and down the steps, calling to his wife to follow. 

“Stop!” shouted Deppingham. “We dare not leave 
this place ! If they have turned against Chase, they are 
also ready for us. I’m not a coward, Browne. We’re 
needed here, that’s all. Good God, man, don’t you see 
what it means? It’s to be a general massacre! We all 
are to go to-night. The servants may even now be wait- 
ing to cut us down. It’s too late to help Chase. They’ve 
got him, poor devil ! Everybody inside ! Get to the guns 
if possible and cut off the servants’ quarters. We must 
not let them surprise us. Follow me!” 

There was wisdom in what he said, and Browne was not 
slow to see it clearly. With a single penetrating glance 
at Genevra’s despairing face, he shook his head gloomily, 
and turned to follow Deppingham, who was hurrying off 
through the corridor with her ladyship. 

“Come,” he called, and the Princess, feeling Drusilla’s 
hand grasping her arm, gave one helpless look at the fire 
and hastened to obey. 

In the grand hallway, they came upon Britt and Saun- 
ders white-faced and excited. The white servants were 
clattering down the stairways, filled with alarm, but there 
was not one of the native attendants in sight. This was 
ominous enough in itself. As they huddled there for a 
moment, undecided which way to turn, the sound of a 
violent struggle in the lower corridor came to their ears. 
Loud voices, blows, a single shot, the rushing of feet, 
the panting of men in fierce combat — and then, even as 
the whites turned to retreat up the stairway, a crowd of 
men surged up the stairs from below, headed by Baillo, 
the major-domo. 

“Stop, excellencies !” he shouted again and again. 


CHASE COMES FROM THE CLOUDS 187 


Bobby Browne and Deppingham were covering the re- 
treat, prepared to fight to the end for their women, al- 
though unarmed. It was the American who first realised 
that Baillo was not heading an attack upon them. He 
managed to convey this intelligence to the others and in a 
moment they were listening in wonder to the explanations 
of the major-domo. 

Surprising as it may appear, the majority of the ser- 
vants were faithful to their trust. Baillo and a score of 
his men had refused to join the stable men and gardeners 
in the plot to assassinate the white people. As a last re- 
sort, the conspirators contrived to steal into the chateau, 
hoping to fall upon their victims before Baillo could in- 
terpose. The major-domo, however, with the wily sa- 
gacity of his race, anticipated the move. The two forces 
met in the south hall, after the plotters had effected an 
entrance from the garden ; the struggle was brief, for the 
conspirators were outnumbered and surprised. They 
were even now lying below, bound and helpless, awaiting 
the disposition of their intended victims. 

“It is not because we love you, excellencies,” explained 
Baillo, with a sudden fierce look in his eyes, “but because 
Allah has willed that we should serve you faithfully. We 
are your dogs. Therefore we fight for you. It is a vile 
dog which bites its master.” 

Browne, with the readiness of the average American, 
again assumed command of the situation. He gave in- 
structions that the prisoners, seven in number, be confined 
in the dungeon, temporarily, at least. Bobby did not 
make the mistake of pouring gratitude upon the faithful 
servitors ; it would have been as unwise as it was unwel- 
come. He simply issued commands ; he was obeyed with 
the readiness that marks the soldier who dies for the cause 
he hates, but will not abandon. 

“T^cr« will be no other attack on us to-night,” said 


188 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


Browne, rejoining the women after his interview with 
Baillo. “It has missed fire for the present, but they will 
try to get at us sooner or later from the outside. Britt, 
will you and Mr. Saunders put those prisoners through 
the ‘sweat’ box? You may be able to bluff something out 
of them, if you threaten them with death. They ” 

“It won’t do, Browne,” said Deppingham, shaking his 
head. “They are fatalists, they are stoics. I know the 
breed better than you. Question if you like, but threats 
will be of no avail. Keep ’em locked up, that’s all.” 

Firearms and ammunition were taken from the gun- 
room to the quarters occupied by the white people. Every 
preparation was made for a defence in the event of an 
attack from the outside or inside. Strict orders were 
given to every one. From this night on, the occupants 
of the chateau were to consider themselves in a state of 
siege, even though the enemy made no open display 
against them. Every precaution against surprise was 
taken. The white servants were moved into rooms ad- 
joining their employers; Britt and Saunders transferred 
their belongings to certain gorgeous apartments; Miss 
Pelham went into a Marie Antoinette suite close by that 
of the Princess. The native servants retained their cus- 
tomary quarters, below stairs. It was a peculiar condi- 
tion that all of the native servants were men ; no women 
were employed in the great establishment, nor ever had 
been. 

Far in the night, Genevra, sleepless and depressed, stole 
into the hanging garden. Her mind was full of the hor- 
rid thing that had happened to Hollingsworth Chase. 
He had been nothing to her — he could not have been any- 
thing to her had he escaped the guns of the assassins. 
And yet her heart was stunned by the stroke that it had 
sustained. Wide-eyed and sick, she made her way to the 
railing, and, clinging to the vines, stared for she knew 


CHASE COMES FROM THE CLOUDS 189 


not how long at the dull red glow on the mountain. The 
flames were gone, but the last red tinge of their anger 
still clung to the spot where the bungalow had stood. Be- 
hind her, there were lights in a dozen rooms of the 
chateau. She knew that she was not the only sleepless 
one. Others were lying wide awake and tense, but for 
reasons scarcely akin to hers ; they were appalled, not 
heartsick. 

The night was still and ominously dark. She had never 
known a night since she came to Japat when the birds 
and insects were so mute. A sombre, supernatural calm 
hung over the island like a pall. Far off, over the black 
sea, pulsed the fitful glow of an occasional gleam of 
lightning, faint with the distance which it traversed. 
There was no moon; the stars were gone; the sky was 
inky and the air somnolent. The smell of smoke hung 
about her. She could not help wondering if his fine, 
strong body was lying up there, burnt to a crisp. It was 
far past midnight; she was alone in the garden. Sixty 
feet below her was the ground ; above, the black dome of 
heaven. 

She was not to know till long afterward that one of her 
faithful Thorberg men stood guard in the passage lead- 
ing up from the garden, armed and willing to die. One 
or the other slept in front of her door through all those 
nights on the island. 

Something hot trickled down her cheeks from the wide, 
pitying eyes that stared so hard. She was wondering 
now if he had a mother — sisters. How their hearts would 
be wrenched by this ! A mute prayer that he might have 
died in the storm of bullets before the fire swept over him 
struggled against the hope that he might have escaped 
altogether. She was thinking of him with pity and hor- 
ror in her heart, not love. 

A question was beginning to form itself vaguely in her 


190 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

troubled mind. Were all of them to die as Chase had 
died? 

Suddenly there came to her ears the sound of something 
swishing through the air. An instant later, a solid ob- 
ject fell almost at her feet. She started back with a cry 
of alarm. A broad shaft of light crossed the garden, 
thrown by the lamps in the upper hall of the chateau. 
Her eyes fell upon a wriggling, snakelike thing that lay 
in this path of light. 

Fascinated, almost paralysed, she watched it for a full 
minute before realising that it was the end of a thick 
rope, which lost itself in the heavy shadows at the cliff 
end of the garden. Looking about in terror, as if expect- 
ing to see murderous forms emerge from the shadows, she 
turned to flee. At the head of the steps which led down- 
ward into the corridor, she paused for a moment, glanc- 
ing over her shoulder at the mysterious, wriggling thing. 
She was standing directly in the shaft of light. To her 
surprise, the wriggling ceased. The next moment, a faint, 
subdued shout was borne to her ears. Her flight was 
checked by that shout, for her startled, bewildered ears 
caught the sound of her own name. Again the shout, 
from where she knew not, except that it was distant; it 
seemed to come from the clouds. 

At last, far above, she saw the glimmer of a light. It 
was too large to be a star, and it moved back and forth. 

Sharply it dawned upon her that it was at the top of 
the cliff which overhung the garden and stretched away 
to the sea. Some one was up there waving a lantern. 
She was thinking hard and fast, a light breaking in upon 
her understanding. Something like joy shot into her 
being. Who else could it be if not Chase? He alone 
would call out her name ! He was alive ! 

She called out his name shrilly, her face raised eagerly 
to the bobbing light. Not until hours afterward was 


CHASE COMES FROM THE CLOUDS 191 


Genevra to resent the use of her Christian name by the 
man in the clouds. 

In her agitation, she forgot to arouse the chateau, but 
undertook to ascertain the truth for herself. Rushing 
over, she grasped the knotted end of the rope. A glance 
and a single tug were sufficient to convince her that the 
other end w T as attached to a support at the top of the 
cliff. It hung limp and heavy, lifeless. A sharp tug 
from above caused it to tremble violently in her hands; 
she dropped it as if it were a serpent. There was some- 
thing weird, uncanny in its presence, losing itself as it 
did in the darkness but a few feet above her head. Again 
she heard the shout, and this time she called out a ques- 
tion. 

“Yes,” was the answer, far above. “Can you hear me? 
Greatly excited, she called back that she could hear and 
understand. “I’m coming down the rope. Pray for us 
■ — but don’t worry ! Please go inside until we land in the 
garden. It’s a long drop, you know.” 

“Are you quite sure — is it safe?” she called, shuddering 
at the thought of -the perilous descent of nearly three 
hundred feet, sheer through the darkness. 

“It’s safer than stopping here. Please go inside.” 

She dully comprehended his meaning : he wanted to save 
her from seeing his fall in the event that the worst should 
come to pass. Scarcely knowing what she did, she moved 
over into the shadow near the walls and waited breath- 
lessly, all the time wondering why some one did not come 
from the chateau to lend assistance. 

At last that portion of the rope which lay in the garden 
began to jerk and writhe vigorously. She knew then that 
he was coming down, hand over hand, through that long, 
dangerous stretch of darkness. Elsewhere in this narra- 
tive, it has been stated that the cliff reared itself sheer 
to the height of three hundred and fifty feet directly be- 


192 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


hind the chateau. At the summit of this great wall, a 
shelving ledge projected over the hanging garden ; a rope 
dangling from this ledge would fall into the garden not 
far from the edge nearest the cliff. The summit of the 
cliff could be gained only by traversing the mountain 
slope from the other side; it was impossible to scale it 
from the floor of the valley which it bounded. A wide 
table-land extended back from the ledge for several hun- 
dred yards and then broke into the sharp, steep incline to 
the summit of the mountain. This table-land was cov- 
ered by large, stout trees, thickly grown. 

The rope was undoubtedly attached to the trunk of a 
sturdy tree at the brow of the cliff. 

She could look no longer; it seemed hours since he 
started from the top. Every heart-beat brought him 
nearer to safety, but would he hold out? Any instant 
might bring him crashing to her feet — dead, after all 
that he may have lived through during that awful 
night. 

At last she heard his heavy panting, groaning almost ; 
the creaking and straining of the rope, the scraping of 
his hands and body. She opened her eyes and saw the 
bulky, swaying shadow not twenty feet above the garden. 
Slowly it drew nearer the grass-covered floor — foot by 
foot, straining, struggling, gasping in the final supreme 
effort — and then, with a sudden rush, the black mass col- 
lapsed and the taut rope sprung loose, the end switching 
and leaping violentty. 

Genevra rushed frantically across the garden, half-f ear- 
ful, half -joyous. As she came up, the mass seemed to 
divide itself into two parts. One sank limply to the 
ground, the other stood erect for a second and then 
dropped beside the prostrate, gasping figure. 

Chase had come down the rope with another human be- 
ing clinging to his body ! 


CHASE COMES FROM THE CLOUDS 193 


Genevra fell to her knees beside the man who had ac- 
complished this miracle. She gave but a passing glance 
at the other dark figure beside her. All of her interest 
was in the writhing, gasping American. She grasped 
his hands, warm and sticky with blood; she tried to lift 
his head from the ground, moaning with pity all the time, 
uttering words of encouragement in his ear. 

Many minutes passed. At last Chase gave over gasp- 
ing and began to breathe regularly but heavily. The 
strain had been tremendous ; only superhuman strength 
and will had carried him through the ordeal. He groaned 
with pain as the two beside him lifted him to a sitting 
posture. 

“Tell Selim to come ahead,” he gasped, his bloody hand 
at his throat. “We’re all right!” 

Then, for the first time, Genevra peered in the darkness 
at the figure beside her. She stared in amazement as it 
sprang lightly erect and glided across to the patch of 
light. It was then that she recognised the figure of a 
woman — a slight, graceful woman in Oriental garb. The 
woman turned and lifted her face to the heights from 
which she had descended. In a shrill, eager voice she 
called out something in a language strange to the Prin- 
cess, w r ho knelt there and stared as if she were looking 
upon a being from another world. A faint shout came 
from on high, and once more the rope began to writhe. 

The Princess passed her hand over her eyes, bewildered. 
The face of the woman in the light, half-shaded, half- 
illumined, was gloriously beautiful — young, dark, bril- 
liant ! 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, starting to her feet, a look of un- 
derstanding coming into her eyes. This was one of the 
Persians! He had saved her! A feeling of revulsion 
swept over her, combatting the first natural, womanly 
pride in the deed of a brave man. 


194 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


Chase struggled weakly to his feet. He saw the tense, 
strained figure before him, and, putting out his hand, 
said: 

“She is Selim’s wife. I am stronger than he, so I 
brought her down.” Then looking upward anxiously, he 
shouted : 

“Be careful, Selim! It’s easy if you take your time 
to it.” 


CHAPTER XX 


NEENAH 

“Selim’s wife, Neenah, saved my life.” It was the next 
morning and Chase was relating his experiences to an 
eager marvelling company in the breakfast room. “She 
has a sister whose husband was one of the leaders in the 
attack. Neenah told Selim and Selim told me. That’s 
all. We were prepared for them when they came last 
night. Days ago, Selim and I cached the rope at the 
top of the cliff, anticipating just such an emergency as 
this, and intending to use it if we could reach the chateau 
in no other way. I figured that they would cut off all 
other means of getting into your grounds. 

“Neenah came up from the village ahead of the attack- 
ing party, out of breath and terribly frightened. We 
didn’t waste a second, let me tell you. Grabbing up our 
guns, we got out through the rear and made a dash across 
the stable yard. It was near midnight. I had received 
the committee at nine and had given them my reasons 
for not resigning the post. They went away apparently 
satisfied, which aroused my suspicions. I knew that there 
was something behind that exhibition of meekness. 

“The servants, all of whom were up and ready to join 
in the fight, attempted to head us off. We had a merry 
little touch of real warfare just back of the stables. It 
was as dark as pitch, and I don’t believe we hit any- 
body. But it was lively scrambling for a minute or two, 
let me tell you.” Chase shook his head in sober recollec- 
tion of the preliminary affray. 

Deppingham’s big blue eyes were fairly snapping. His 
wife put her hand on his shoulder with an impulse strange 
to her and Genevra saw a light blaze in her eyes. “I 


196 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

hope you potted a few of ’em. Serve ’em jolly well right 
if ” 

“Selim says he stumbled over something that groaned 
as we were racing for the back road. I was looking out 
for Neenah.” He glanced involuntarily from Lady Agnes 
to the Princess, a touch of confusion suddenly assail- 
ing him. “Selim covered the retreat,” he added hastily. 
“Instead of keeping the road, we turned up the embank- 
ment and struck into the forest. Dropping down be- 
hind the bushes, we watched those devils from the town 
race pell-mell, howling and shooting, down the chateau 
road. There must have been a hundred of ’em. Five 
minutes later, the bungalow was afire. It was as bright 
as day and I had no trouble in recognising Rasula in 
the crowd. Selim led the way and I followed with 
Neenah. It was hard going, let me tell you, up hill and 
down, stumbles and tumbles, scratches and bumps, 
through five miles of the blackest night imaginable. 
Hang it all, Browne, I didn’t have time to save that case 
of cigarettes; I’m out nearly a hundred boxes. And 
those novels you lent me, Lady Deppingham — I can’t 
return. Sorry.” 

“You might have saved the cigarettes and novels if you 
hadn’t been so occupied in saving the fair Neenah,” said 
her ladyship, with a provoking smile. 

“Alas! I thought of that also, but too late. Still, 
virtue was its own reward. Imagine my delight when we 
stopped to rest to have Neenah divide her own little 
store of Turkish cigarettes with me. We had a bully 
smoke up there in the wood.” 

“Selim, too?” asked Browne casually. 

“Oh, no! Selim was exploring,” said Chase 
easily. 

“Neenah is very beautiful,” ventured Lady Agnes. 

“She is exquisite,” replied Chase with the utmost sang 


NEENAH 197 

froid . “Selim bought her last winter for a ten karat 
ruby and a pint of sapphires.” 

“That explains her overwhelming love for Selim,” said 
the Princess quietly. Chase looked into her eyes for a 
moment and smiled inwardly. 

“Pll be happy to tell you all about her some other time,” 
he said. “Her story is most interesting.” 

“That will be perfectly delightful,” chimed in Drusilla. 
“We shan’t miss those racy novels, after all.” 

“We finally got to the edge of the cliff and unearthed 
the rope, which we already had fastened to the trunk of 
a tree. It had been securely spliced in three places be- 
forehand, giving us the proper length. It was a frightful 
trip we had over the ridge. Exhibit : the scratches upon 
my erstwhile beautiful countenance ; reserved : the bruises 
upon my unhappy knees and elbows. I was obliged to 
carry Neenah for the last quarter of a mile, poor little 
girl. She was tied to my back, leaving my throat and 
chest free, and down we came. Simplest thing in the 
wmrld. Presto! Here am I, with my happy family at 
my heels.” 

“Well, we can’t sit here and dawdle all day,” exclaimed 
Deppingham. “We must be moving about — arrange 
our batteries, and all that, don’t you know. Get out a 
skirmish line, nominate our spies, bolster up our defences, 
set a watch, court-martial the prisoners, and look into 
the commissariat. We’ve got to stave these devils off for 
two or three weeks, at least, and we’ll have to look sharp. 
Browne, that’s the third cup of coffee you’ve had. Come 
along! This isn’t Boston.” 

As they left the breakfast room, Chase stepped to 
Genevra’s side and walked with her. They traversed the 
full length of the long hall in silence. At the foot of 
the stairs, where they were to part, she extended her 
hand, a bright smile in her eyes. 


198 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“You were and are very brave and good,” she said. He 
withheld his hand and she dropped hers, hurt and 
strangely vexed. “Don’t you care for my approval? Or 
do you ” 

“You forget, Princess, that my hands are still suffering 
from the bravery you would laud,” he said, holding them 
resolutely behind his back. 

“Oh, I remember !” she cried in quick comprehension. 
“They were cut and bruised by the rope. How thought- 
less of me. What are you doing for them? Come, Mr. 
Chase, may I not dress them for you? I am capable — 
I am not afraid of wounds. We have had many of them 
in our family — and fatal ones too.” She was eager now, 
and earnest. 

He shook his head, with a smile on his lips. “I thank 
you. They are better — much better, and they have been 
quite properly bandaged already.” 

“Neenah?” 

“Yes,” he replied gently. She seemed to search his mind 
with a quick, intense look into his eyes. Then she 
smiled and said: “I’ll promise not to bruise the wounds 
if you’ll only be so good as to shake hands with me.” 

He took her slender hand in his broad, white-swathed 
palm and pressed it fervently, regardless of the pain 
which would have caused him to cringe if engaged in 
any other pursuit. 

The forenoon was fully occupied with the preparations 
for defence. Every precaution was taken to circumvent 
the plans of the enemy. There was no longer any doubt 
as to the intentions of the disappointed islanders. Von 
Blitz and Rasula had convinced them that their cause 
was seriously jeopardised; they were made to see the 
necessity for permanently removing the white pre- 
tenders from their path. 

Deppingham, on account of his one time position in 


NEENAH 


199 


the British army, was chosen chief officer of the be- 
leaguered “citadel.” A strict espionage was set upon the 
native servants, despite Baillo’s assurances of loyalty. 
Lookouts were posted in the towers and a ceaseless watch 
was to be kept day and night. Chase, on his first visit 
to the west tower, discovered a long unused searchlight 
of powerful dimensions. Fortunately for the besieged, 
the electric-light plant was located in the chateau grounds 
and could not be tampered with from the outside. A 
quantity of fuel, sufficient to last for a couple of months, 
was found in the bins. 

Britt was put in charge of the night patrol, Saunders 
the day. Strict orders were given that no one was to 
venture into that portion of the park open to long-range 
shots from the hills. Chase set the minds of all at rest 
by announcing that the islanders would not seek to set 
fire to the chateau from the cliffs : such avaricious gentle- 
men as Von Blitz and Rasula would never consent to the 
destruction of property so valuable. Selim, under orders, 
had severed the long rope with a single rifle shot; no 
one could hope to reach the chateau by way of the cliff. 

Extra precautions were taken to guard the women from 
attacks from the inside. The window bars were locked 
securely and heavy bolts were placed on the doors lead- 
ing to the lower regions. It was now only too apparent 
that Skaggs and Wyckholme had wrought well in antici- 
pation of a rebellion by the native shareholders. Each 
window had its adjustable grates, every outer door was 
protected by heavy iron gates. 

By nightfall Deppingham’s forces were in full posses- 
sion of every advantage that their position afforded. In 
the cool of the evening, they sat down to rest in the great 
stone gallery overlooking the sea, satisfied that they were 
reasonably secure from any assault that their foes might 
undertake. No sign of hostility had been observed dur- 


200 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


in g the day. Japat looked, as observed from the 
chateau, to be the most peaceful spot in the world. 

Chase came from his room, still stiff and sore, but with 
fresh, white bandages on his blistered hands. He asked 
and received permission to light a cigarette, and then 
dropped wearily into a seat near the Princess, who sat 
upon the stone railing. She was leaning back against 
the column and looking dreamily out across the lowlands 
toward the starlit sea. The never-ceasing rush of the 
mountain stream came plainly up to them from below; 
now and then a cool dash of spray floated to their faces 
from the waterfall hard by. 

The soft light from the shaded windows fell upon her 
glorious face. Chase sat in silence for many minutes, 
covertly feasting his eyes upon her loveliness. Her trim, 
graceful, seductive figure was outlined against the dark- 
ness; a delicate, sensuous fragrance exhaled from her 
person, filling him with an indescribable delight and lan- 
guor ; the spell of her beauty was upon him and he felt 
the leap of his blood. 

“If I were you,” he said at last, reluctant to despoil 
the picture, “I wouldn’t sit up there. It would be a very 
simple matter for one of our friends to pick you off with 
a shot from below. Please let me pull up a chair for 
you.” 

She smiled languidly, without a trace of uneasiness in 
her manner. 

“Dear officer of the day, do you think they are so fool- 
ish as to pick us off in particles? Not at all. They will 
dispose of us wholesale, not by the piece. By the way, 
has Neenah been made quite comfortable?” 

“I believe so. She and Selim have the room beyond 
mine, thanks to Lady Deppingham.” 

“Agnes tells me that she is very interesting — quite like 
a princess out of a fairy book. You recall the princesses 


NEENAH 


201 


who were always being captured by ogres and evil princes 
and afterward satisfactorily rescued by those dear 
knights admirable? Did Selim steal her in the 
beginning?” 

*‘You forget the pot of sapphires and the big ruby.” 
“They say that princesses can be bought very cheaply.” 
“Depends entirely upon the quality of princess you de- 
sire. It’s very much like buying rare gems or old paint- 
ings, I’d say.” 

“Very much, I’m sure. I suppose you’d call Neenah a 
rare gem?” 

“She is certainly not an old painting.” 

“How old is she, pray?” 

“Seventeen — by no means an antique. Speaking of 
princesses and ogres, has it occurred to you that you 
would bring a fortune in the market?” 

“Mr. Chase!” 

“You know, it’s barely possible that you may be put 
in a matrimonial shop window if Von Blitz and his 
friends should capture you alive. Ever think of 
that?” 

“Good heavens ! You — why, what a horrible thing to 
say !” 

“You won’t bring as much in the South Sea market as 
you would in Rapp-Thorberg or Paris, but I daresay you 
could be sold for ” 

“Please, Mr. Chase, don’t suggest anything so atro- 
cious,” she cried, something like terror in her voice. 

“Neenah’s father sold her for a handful of gems,” 
said he, with distinct meaning in his voice. She was 
silent, and he went on after a moment. “Is there so 
much difference, after all, where one is sold, just so long 
as the price is satisfactory to all concerned?” 

“You are very unkind, Mr. Chase,” she said with quiet 
dignity. “I do not deserve your sarcasm.” 


202 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“I humbly plead for forgiveness,” he said, suddenly 
contrite. “It was beastly.” 

“American wit, I imagine you call it,” she said scorn- 
fully. “I don’t care to talk with you any longer.” 

“Won’t you forgive me? I’m a poor brute — don’t lash 
me. In two or three weeks I’ll step down and out of your 
life; that will be penalty enough, don’t you think?” 

“For whom?” she asked in a voice so low that he could 
scarcely hear the words. Then she laughed ironically. 
“I do forgive. It is all that a prince or a princess is ever 
asked to do, I’m beginning to believe. I also forgive you 
for coming into my life.” 

“If I had been a trifle more intelligent, I should not 
have come into it at all,” he said. She turned upon him 
quickly, stung by the remark. 

“Is that the way you feel about it?” she asked sharply. 
“You don’t understand. A man of intelligence would 
never have kicked Prince Karl. As a matter of fact, in 
trying to kick Prince Karl out of your life, I kicked 
myself into it. A very simple process, and yet scarcely 
intellectual. A jackass could have done as much.” 

“A jackass may kick at a king,” she paraphrased 
casually. “A cat may only look at him. But let us go 
back to realities. Do you mean to tell me that they — 
these wretches — would dare to sell me — us, I mean — 
into the kind of slavery you mention?” A trace of 
anxiety deepened the tone of her voice. She was now 
keenly alert and no longer trivial. 

“Why not?” he asked soberly, arising and coming quite 
close to her side. “You are beautiful. If they should 
take you alive, it would be a very simple matter for any 
one of these men to purchase you from the others. You 
might easily be kept on this island for the rest of your 
days, and the world would be none the wiser. Or you 
could be sold into Persia, or Arabia, or Turkey. I am 


NEENAH 


203 


not surprised that you shudaer. Forgive me for alarm- 
ing you, perhaps needlessly. Nevertheless, it is a thing 
to consider. I have learned all of the plans from 
Selim’s wife. They do not contemplate the connubial 
traffic, ’tis true, but that would be a natural consequence. 
Von Blitz and Rasula mean to destroy all of us. We are 
to disappear from the face of the earth. When our 
friends come to look for us, we will have died from the 
plague and our bodies will have been burned, as they 
always are in Japat. There will be no one left to deny 
the story. All outsiders are to be destroyed — even the 
Persian and Turkish women, who hate their liege lords 
too well. After to-morrow, no ship is due to put in here 
for three weeks. They will see to it that none of us 
get out to that ship ; nor will the ship’s officers know 
of our peril. The word will go forth that the plague 
has come to the island. That is the first step, your 
highness. But there is one obstacle they have over- 
looked,” he concluded. She looked up inquiringly. 

“My warships,” he said, the whimsical smile broadening. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE PLAGUE IS ANNOUNCED 

The next morning, a steamship flying the English flag 
came to anchor off Aratat, delivered and received mail 
bags, and after an hour’s stay steamed away in the drift 
of the southeast trade winds, Bombay to Cape Colony. 
The men at the chateau gazed longingly, helplessly 
through their glasses at this black hulled visitor from 
the world they loved ; they watched it until nothing was 
left to be seen except the faint cloud of smoke that went 
to a pin point in the horizon. There had been absolutely 
no opportunity to communicate with the officers of the 
ship ; they sailed away hurriedly, as if in alarm. Their 
haste was significant. 

“I guess we’d better not tell the women,” said Bobby 
Browne, heaving a deep sigh. “It won’t add to 
their cheerfulness if they hear that a ship has called 
here.” 

“It couldn’t matter in any event,” said Deppingham. 
“We’ve got to stick here two weeks longer, no matter 
how many ships call. I’m demmed if I’ll funk now, 
after all these rotten months.” 

“Perhaps Bowles succeeded in getting a word with the 
officer who came ashore,” said Browne hopefully. “He 
knows the danger we are in.” 

“My dear Browne, Bowles hadn’t the ghost of a chance 
to communicate with the ship,” said Chase. “He can’t 
bully ’em any longer with his Tommy Atkins coat. 
They’ve outgrown it, just as he has. It was splendid 
while it lasted, but they’re no more afraid of it now than 
they are of my warships. I wish there was some way to 
get him and his English assistants into the chateau. It’s 


THE PLAGUE IS ANNOUNCED 205 

awful to think of what is coming to them, sooner or 
later.” 

“Good God, Chase, is there no way to help them?” 
groaned Deppingham. 

“I’ll never forget poor Bowles, the first time I saw him 
in his dinky red jacket and that Hooligan cap of his,” 
reflected Chase, as if he had not heard Deppingham’s re- 
mark. “He put them on and tried to overawe the crowd 
that night when I was threatened in the market-place. 

He did his best, poor chap, and I ” 

“Look !” exclaimed Britt suddenly, pointing toward one 
of the big gates in the upper end of the park. “I believe 
they’re making an attack!” 

The next instant the men in the balcony were leaving it 
pell-mell, picking up the ever-ready rifles as they dashed 
off through the halls and out into the park. What they 
had seen at the gate — which was one rarely used — wa$ 
sufficient to demand immediate action on their part; a 
demonstration of some sort was in progress at this par- 
ticular entrance to the grounds. Saunders was left be- 
hind with instructions to guard the chateau against as- 
sault from other sources. Headed by Chase, the four 
men hurried across the park, prepared for an encounter 
at the gate. They kept themselves as well covered as pos- 
sible by the boxed trees, although up to this time there 
had been no shooting. 

Chase, in advance, suddenly gave vent to a loud cry 
and boldly dashed out into the open, disregarding all 
shelter. Two of the native park patrol were hastening 
toward the gate from another direction. Outside the 
huge, barred gate a throng of men and women were con- 
gregated. Some of the men were vigorously slashing 
away at the bars with sledges and crow-bars ; others were 
crouching with rifles levelled — in the other direction! 
“It’s Bowles !” shouted Chase eagerly. 


206 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


The situation at once became clear to those inside the 
walls. Bowles and his friends, a score all told, had man- 
aged to reach the upper gate and were now clamouring 
for admission, beset on all sides by the pickets who were 
watching the chateau. Bowles, with his pathetic red 
jacket, could be distinguished in the midst of his huddled 
followers, shouting frantically for haste on the part of 
those inside. Some one was waving a white flag of truce. 
A couple of shots were fired from the forest above, and 
there were screams from the frightened women, shouts 
from the men, who had ceased battering the gates at the 
signs of rescue from within. 

“For God’s sake, be quick,” shouted Bowles. “There’s 
a thousand of them coming up the mines’ road !” 

The gates were unlocked by the patrol and the panic- 
stricken throng tumbled through them and scattered like 
sheep behind the high, sheltering walls. Once more the 
massive gates were closed and. the bolts thrown down, just 
in time to avoid a fusillade of bullets from the outside. It 
was all over in a minute. A hundred throats emitted 
shouts of rage, curses and threats, and then, as if by 
magic, the forest became as still as death. 

Once inside the chateau, the fugitives, shivering with 
terror, fairly collapsed. There were three Englishmen 
in the party besides Bowles, scrubby, sickly chaps, but 
men after all. It was with unf eigned surprise that Chase rec- 
ognised the Persian wives of Jacob von Blitz among the 
women who had been obliged to cast their lot with the 
refugees from Aratat. The sister of Neenah and five or 
six other women who had been sold into the island made 
up the remainder of the little group of trembling females. 
Their faces were veiled ; their persons were bedecked with 
all of the gaudy raiment and jewels that their charms 
had won from their liege lords. They were slaves, these 
Persians and Turks and Egyptians, but they came out of 


THE PLAGUE IS ANNOUNCED 


207 


bondage with the trophies of queens stuck in their hair, 
in their ears, on their hands and arms and about their 
waists and throats. 

The remainder of the men in the party, fourteen or fif- 
teen in all, were of many castes and nationalities, and of 
various ages. There were brown-skinned fellows from' 
Calcutta, a couple of sturdy Greeks, an Egyptian and a 
Persian, three or four Assyrians and as many Maori. As 
to their walks in life : among them were clerk « and guards 
from the bank, members of the native constabulary, In- 
dian fakirs and showmen, and venders of foreign gew- 
gaws. 

Bowles, his thin legs still shaking perceptibly, although 
he strove mightily to hold them at strict “attention,” was 
the spokesman. A valiant heart thumped once more 
against the seams of the little red jacket; if his hand 
trembled and his voice shook, it was because of the un- 
wonted exertion to which both had been put in that stir- 
ring flight at dawn. He had eager, anxious listeners 
about him, too — and of the nobility. Small wonder that 
his knees were intractable. 

“For some time we have been preparing for the out- 
break,” he said, fingering the glass of brandy that Britt 
had poured for him. “Ever since Chase began to go in 
so noticeably for the ladies — ahem!” 

Chase glared at him. The others tittered. 

“I don’t mean the old story, sir, of the Persians — and 
I’m saying, sir, what’s more, there wasn’t a word of truth 
in it — I mean the ladies of the chateau, begging pardon, 
too. Von Blitz came to me often with complaints that 
you were being made a fool of by a pretty face or two, 
and that you were going over to the enemy, body and 
soul. Of course, I stood out for you, sir. It wasn’t any 
use. They’d made up their minds to get rid of you. 
When I heard that they tried to kill you the night before 


208 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


last, I made up my mind that no white man was to be left 
to tell the tale. Last night we locked all the company’s 
books in the vaults, got together all the banknotes and 
gold we had on hand, and made preparations to go on 
board the steamer when she called this morning. My 
plan was to tell them of the trouble here and try to save 
you. We were all expected to die of the plague, that’s 
what we were, and I realised that Tommy Atkins was off 
the boards forever. 

“We hadn’t any more than got the cash and valuables 
ready to smuggle aboard, when down came Rasula upon 
us. Ten o’clock last night, your lordship. That’s what 
it was — ten p. m. He had a dozen men with him and he 
told every mother’s son of us that our presence in the 
town was not desired until after the ship had sailed away. 
We were ordered to leave the town and go up into the 
hills under guard. There wasn’t any chance to fight or 
argue. We said we’d go, but we’d have the government 
on them for the outrage. We left the rooms in the bank 
building, carrying away what money we could well con- 
ceal. Later we were joined by the other men you found 
with us, all of whom had refused to join in the outrage. 

“We were taken up into the hills by a squad of men. 
There wasn’t a man among us that didn’t know that we 
were to be killed as soon as the' ship had gone. With our 
own eyes, we saw the mail bags rifled, and nearly all of 
the mail destroyed. The pouches from the chateau were 
burned. Rasula politely informed us that the plague 
had broken out among the chateau servants and that no 
mail could be sent out from that place. He said he in- 
tended to warn the ship’s officer of the danger in land- 
ing and — well, that explains the short stay of the ship 
and the absence of nearly all mail from the island. We 
had no means of communicating with the officers. There 
won’t be another boat for three weeks, and they won’t 


THE PLAGUE IS ANNOUNCED 


209 


land because of the plague. They will get word, how- 
ever, that every one in the chateau has died of the dis- 
ease, and that scores of natives are dying every 

day. 

“Well, we decided to break away from the guard and 
try to get to the chateau. It was our only chance. It 
was their intention to take some of us back to the bank 
this morning to open the vault and the safes. That was 
to be our last act, I fancy. I think it was about four 
this morning when a dozen of the women came up to 
where we were being held. They were flying from the 
town and ran into the arms of our guard before they 
knew of their presence. It seems that those devils down 
there had set out to kill their women because it was 
known that one of them had warned Mr. Chase of his 
danger. According to the women who came with us, at 
least a score of these unlucky wives were strangled. Von 
Blitz’s wives succeeded in getting word to a few of their 
friends and they fled. 

“During the excitement brought about by their arrival 
in our camp, we made a sudden attack upon our guards. 
They were not expecting it and we had seized their rifles 
before they could recover from their surprise. I regret 
to say that we were obliged to kill a few of them in the 
row that followed. But that is neither here nor there. 
We struck off for the lower park as lively as possible. 
The sun was well up, and we had no time to lose. We 
found the gates barred and went on to the upper gates. 
You let us in just in time. The alarm had gone back 
to the town and we could see the mob coming up the 
mines’ road. My word, it was a close shave.” 

He mopped his brow with trembling hand and smiled 
feebly at his countrymen for support. The colour was 
coming back into their faces and they could smile with the 
usual British indifference. 


210 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“A very close shave, my crimes !” vouchsafed the stumpy 
gentleman who kept the books at the bank. 

“It’s an ill wind that blows all evil,” said Deppingham. 
“Mr. Bowles, you are most welcome. We were a bit short 
of able-bodied soldiers. May we count on you and the 
men who came with you?” 

“To the end, my lord,” said Bowles, almost bursting his 
jacket by inflation. The others slapped their legs 
staunchly. 

“Then, we’ll all have breakfast,” announced Lord Dep- 
pingham. “Mr. Saunders, will you be good enough to 
conduct the recruits to quarters?” 

The arrival of the refugees from Aratat gave the 
chateau a staunch little garrison, not counting the ser- 
vants, whose loyalty was an uncertain quantity. The 
stable men in the dungeon below served as illustrations of 
what might be expected of the others, despite their pro- 
fession of fidelity. Including the house servants, who, 
perforce, were loyal, there was an able-bodied garrison of 
sixty men. After luncheon, Deppingham called his forces 
together. He gave fresh instructions, exacted staunch 
promises, and heard reports from all of his aides. The 
chateau by this time had been made practically impreg- 
nable to attack from the outside. 

“For the time being we are as snug as bugs in a rug,” 
said Deppingham, when all was over. “Shall we rejoin 
the ladies, gentlemen?” He was as calm as a May morn- 
ing. 

The three leaders found the ladies in the shaded balcony, 
lounging lazily as if no such thing as danger existed. 
Below them in the grassy courtyard, a dozen indolent, 
sensuous Persians were congregated, lying about in the 
shade with all the abandon of absolute security. The 
three women in the balcony had been watching them for 
an hour, commenting freely upon these creatures from 


THE PLAGUE IS ANNOUNCED 


m 


another world. Neenah, the youngest and prettiest of 
them all, had wafted kisses to the proud dames above. 
She had danced for their amusement. Her companions 
sat staring at the ladies at the railing, dark eyes peer- 
ing with disdain above the veils which hid their 
faces. 

Lady Agnes waved her hand lazily toward the group 
below, sending a mocking smile to Chase. “The Asiatic 
plague,” she said cheerfully. 

“The deuce,” broke in her husband, not catching her 

meaning. “Has it really broken out ” 

“Deppy, you are the dumbest creature I know,” ex- 
claimed his wife. 

Chase smiled broadly. “She refers to the newly ac- 
quired harem, Lord Deppingham. We’re supposed to die 

with the Asiatic plague, not to — not to ” 

“Not to live with it! Ho, ho, I see, by Jove!” roared 
Deppingham amiably. “Splendid! Harem! I get the 
point. Ripping !” 

“They’re not so bad, are they, Bobby?” asked Lady 
Agnes coolly, going to Browne’s side at the railing. 
Chase hesitated a moment and then walked over to 
Drusilla Browne, who was looking pensively into the 
courtyard below. He was sorry for her. She laughed 
and chatted with him for ten minutes, but there was a 
strained note in her voice that did not escape his notice. 
It may not have been true that Browne was in love with 
Lady Deppingham, but it was more than evident that his 
wife felt convinced that he was. 

“Splendid!” was the sudden exclamation of Drusilla’s 
vagrant lord. The others looked up, interested. “Say, 
everybody, Lady Agnes and I have hit upon a ripping 
scheme. It’s great !” 

“To better our position?” asked Deppingham. 
“Position? What — oh, I see. Not exactly. What do 


212 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


you say to a charity ball, the proceeds to go to the sur- 
vivors of the plague we’re expected to have?” 

The Princess gave a quick, involuntary look at Chase’s 
face. Browne’s tall fellow-countryman was now leaning 
against the rail beside her chair. She saw a look of sur- 
prised amusement flit across his face, succeeded almost 
instantly by a hard, dark frown of displeasure. He 
waited a moment and then looked down at her with un- 
mistakable shame and disapproval in his eyes. Bobby 
Browne was going on volubly about the charity ball, 
Deppingham listening with a fair show of tolerance. 

“We might just as well be merry while we can,” he was 
saying. “Think of what the French did at the time of 
the Commune. They danced and died like ladies and gen- 
tlemen. And our own forefathers, Chase, at the time of 
the American Revolution — remember them, too. They 
gave their balls and parties right under the muzzles of 
British cannon. And Vicksburg — New Orleans, too — in 
the Civil War! Think of ’em! Why shouldn’t we be as 
game and as gay as they?” 

“But they were earnest in their distractions,” observed 
Deppingham, with a glance at his wife’s eager face. 
“This could be nothing more than a travesty, a jest.” 

“Oh, let us be sports,” cried Lady Agnes, falling into 
an Americanism readily. “It may be a jest, but what 
odds? Something to kill time with.” 

Chase and the Princess watched Deppingham’s expres- 
sionless face as he listened to his wife and Bobby Browne. 
They were talking of arrangements. He looked out over 
the roof of the opposite wing, beyond the group of Per- 
sians, and nodded his head from time to time. There was 
no smile on his lips, however. 

“I don’t like Mr. Browne,” whispered Genevra suddenly. 
Chase did not reply. She waited a moment and then went 
on. “He is not like Deppingham. Do you understand?” 


THE PLAGUE IS ANNOUNCED 


218 


Lady Deppingham came over to them at that instant, 
her eyes sparkling. 

“It’s to be to-night,” she said. “A fashionable charity 
ball — everything except the newspaper accounts, don’t 
you know. Committees and all that. It’s short notice, 
of course, but life may be short. We’ll have Arab acro- 
batics, Persian dances, a grand march, electric lights and 
absolutely no money to distribute. That’s the way it 
usually is. Now, Mr. Chase, don’t look so sour! Be nice, 
please !” She put her hand on his arm and smiled up at 
him so brightly that he could not hold out against her. 
She caught the touch of disapproval in Genevra’s glance, 
and a sharp, quick flash of rebellion came into her own 
eyes — a stubborn line stopped for an instant at the cor- 
ners of her mouth. 

“What is a charity ball?” asked Genevra after a mo- 
ment. 

“A charity ball is a function where one set of women 
sit in the boxes and say nasty things about the women on 
the floor, and those on the floor say horrid things about 
the women in the boxes. It’s great fun.” 

“Charity is simply a hallucination, then?” 

“Yes, but don’t mention it aloud. Mr. Britt is trying 
with might and main to prove that Bobby and I have 
hallucinations without end. If I happen to look depressed 
at breakfast time, he jots it down — spells of depression 
and melancholia, do you see? He’s a dreadful man.” 

Saunders was approaching from the lower end of the 
balcony. He appeared flustered. His face was red and 
perspiring and his manner distrait. Saunders, since his 
failure to establish the advantages of polygamy, had 
shrunk farther into the background than ever, quite 
unlike Britt, who had not lost confidence in the divorce 
law^s. The sandy-haired solicitor was now exhibiting 
symptoms of unusual discomfiture. 


214 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Well, Saunders?” said Deppingham, as the lawyer 
stopped to clear his throat obsequiously. 

“I have found sufficient food of all descriptions, sir, to 
last for a month, at least,” said Saunders, in a strained, 
unnatural voice. 

“Good! Has Miss Pelham jilted you, Saunders?” He 
put the question in a jocular way. Its effect on Saun- 
ders was startling. His face turned almost purple with 
confusion. 

“No, sir, she has not, sir,” he stammered. 

“Beg pardon, Saunders. I didn’t mean to offend. 
Where is she, pray, with the invoice?” 

“I’m — I’m sure I don’t know, sir,” responded Saunders, 
striving to regain his dignity. 

“Have a cigarette, Deppy?” interposed Browne, see- 
ing that something was amiss with Saunders. In 
solemn order the silver box went the rounds. Drusilla 
alone refused to take one. Her husband looked 
surprised. 

“Want one, Drusie?” 

“No, thank you, Bobby,” she said succinctly. “I’ve 
stopped. I don’t think it’s womanly.” 

Lady Deppingham’s hand was arrested with the match 
half way to her lips. She looked hard at Drusilla for a 
moment and then touched the light serenely to her cigar- 
ette. 

“Pooh!” was all that she said. Genevra did not light 
hers at all. 

Saunders spoke up, as if suddenly recollecting some- 
thing. “I have also to report, sir, that the stock of cig- 
arettes is getting very low. They can’t last three days 
at this rate, sir.” 

The three men stared at him. 

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Chase, who could face any 
peril and relish the experience if needs be, but who now 


THE PLAGUE IS ANNOUNCED 


215 


foresaw a sickening deprivation. “You can’t mean it, 
Saunders ?” 

“I certainly do, sir. The mint is holding out well, 
though, sir. I think it will last.” 

“By George, this is a calamity,” groaned Chase. “How 
is a man to fight without cigarettes?” 

Genevra quietly proffered the one she had not lighted, a 
quizzical smile in her eyes. 

“My contribution to the cause,” she said gaily. “What 
strange creatures men are ! You will go out and be shot 
at all day and yet — ” she paused and looked at the cig- 
arette as if it were entitled to reverence. 

“It does seem a bit silly, doesn’t it?” lamented the stal- 
wart Chase. Then he took the cigarette. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE CHARITY BALL 

They were not long in finding out what had happened 
to Saunders. After luncheon, while Browne and the three 
ladies were completing the preparations for the enter- 
tainment, Miss Pelham appeared before Deppingham and 
Chase in the former’s headquarters. She had asked for 
an interview and was accompanied by Mr. Britt. 

“Lord Deppingham,” she began, seating herself coolly 
before the two men, her eyes dark with decision, “I 
approach you as the recognised head of this establish- 
ment. I shan’t detain you long. My attorney, Mr. 
Britt, will explain matters to you after I have retired. 
He ” 

“Your attorney? What does this mean?” gasped Dep- 
pingham, visions of blackmail in mind. “What’s up, 
Britt ? I deny every demmed word of it, whatever it is !” 

“Just a little private affair,” murmured Britt, uncom- 
fortably. 

“Private?” sniffed Miss Pelham, involuntarily rearrang- 
ing her hat. “I think it has been quite public, Mr. 
Britt. That’s the trouble.” Lord Deppingham looked 
worried and Chase had the feeling that some wretched 
disclosure was about to be made b} r the sharp-tongued 
young woman. He looked at her with a hard light in 
his eyes. She caught the glance and stared back for a 
moment defiantly. Then she appeared to remember that 
she always had longed for his good opinion — perhaps, 
she had dreamed of something more — and her e}'es fell : 
he saw her lip tremble. “I’ve simply come to ask Lord 
Deppingham to stand by me. Mr. Saunders is in his 
employ — or Lady Deppingham’s, I should say ” 


THE CHARITY BALL 


217 


“Which is the same thing,” interposed Deppingham, 
drawing a deeper breath. He had been trying to recol- 
lect if he ever had said anything to Miss Pelham that 
might not appear well if repeated. 

“Mr. Saunders has deceived me,” she announced steadily. 
“I leave it to you if his attentions have not been most 
pronounced. Of course, if I wanted to, I could show 
you a transcript of everything he has said to me in the 
last couple of months. He didn’t know it, but I man- 
aged to get most everything down in shorthand. I 
did it at the risk, too, your lordship, of being considered 
cold and unresponsive by him. It’s most difficult to take 
conversation without the free use of your hands, I must 
say. But I’ve preserved in my own black and white, 
every promise he made and ” 

“I’m afraid it won’t be good evidence,” volunteered her 
lawyer. “It will have to be substantiated, my dear.” 

“Please don’t call me 4 my dear,’ Mr. Britt. Never you 
mind about it not being good evidence. Thomas Saun- 
ders won’t enjoy hearing it read in court, just the same. 
What I want to ask of you, Lord Deppingham, as a 
friend, is to give Mr. Britt your deposition regarding 
Mr. Saunders’s attitude toward me, to the best of your 
knowledge and belief. I’ll take it verbatim and put it 
into typewriting, free of charge. I — I don’t see any- 
thing to laugh at, Mr. Chase !” she cried, flushing pain- 
fully. 

“My dear girl,” he said, controlling himself, “I think 
you are misjudging the magnitude of a lover’s quarrel. 
Don’t you think it is rather a poor time to talk breach 
of promise with the guns of an enemy ready to take a 
pop at us at any moment?” 

“It’s no worse than a charity ball, Mr. Chase,” she 
said severely. “Charity begins at home, gentlemen, and 
I’m here to look out for myself. No one else will, let 


218 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


me tell you that. I want to get the deposition of every 
person in the chateau. They can be sworn to before Mr. 
Bowles, who is a magistrate, I’m told. He can marry 
people and ” 

“By Jove!” exclaimed Deppingham suddenly. “Can 
he? Upon my soul!” 

“His manner changed as soon as that horrid little wife 
of Selim came to the chateau. I don’t like the way she 
makes eyes at him and I told him so this morning, down 
in the storerooms. My, but he flew up ! He said he’d 
be damned if he’d marry me.” She began to use her 
handkerchief vigorously. The men smiled as they looked 
away. 

“I — I intend to sue him for breach of promise,” she 
said thickly. 

“Is it as bad as all that?” asked Deppingham consol- 
ingly. 

“What do you mean by ‘bad as all that’? He’s kissed 
me time and again, but that’s all.” 

“I’ll send for Saunders,” said Deppingham sternly. 

“Not while I’m here,” she exclaimed, getting up ner- 
vously. 

“Just as you like, Miss Pelham. I’ll send for 
you after we’ve talked it over with Saunders. We 
can’t afford a scandal in the chateau, don’t you 
know.” 

“No, I should think not,” she said pointedly. Then 
she looked at Chase and winked, with a meaning nod at 
the unobserving Deppingham. Chase followed her into 
the hall. 

“None of that, Miss Pelham,” he said severely. 

Saunders came in a few minutes later, nervous and un- 
comfortable. 

“You sent for me, my lord,” he said weakly. 

“Sit down, Saunders. Your knees seem to be troubling 


THE CHARITY BALL 


219 


you. Miss Pelham is going to sue you for breach of 
promise.” 

“Good Lord!” 

“What have you promised her, sir?” 

“That I wouldn't marry her, that’s all, sir,” floundered 
Saunders. “She’s got no right to presume, sir. Gentle- 
men always indulge in little affairs — flirtations, I might 
say, sir — it’s most common. Of course, I thought she’d 
understand.” 

“Don’t you love her, Saunders?” 

“Oh, I say, my lord, that’s rather a pointed question. 
My word, it is, sir! There may have been a bit of — 
er — well, you know — between us, sir, but — that’s all, 
that’s quite all. Absurdly all, ’pon my soul.” 

“Saunders,” said Britt solemnly, “I am her attorney. 
Be careful what you say in my presence.” 

“Britt,” said Saunders distinctly, “you are a blooming 
traitor! You told me yourself that she was used to all 
that sort of thing and wouldn’t mind. Now, see what you 
do ? It’s — it’s outrageous !” He was half in tears. 
Then turning to Deppingham, he went on fiercely, “I 
won’t be bullyragged by any woman, sir. We got along 
beautifully until she began to shy figurative pots at me 
because Selim’s wife looked at me occasionally. Hang 
it all, sir, I can’t help it if the ladies choose to look at 
me. Minnie — Miss Pelham — was perfectly silly about it. 
Good Lord,” he groaned in recollection. “It was a 
very trying scene she made, sir. More than ever, it 
made me realise that I can’t marry beneath me. You 
see, my lord, we’ve got a fairish sort of social position 
out Hammersmith way — as far out as Putney, I might 
say, where we have rather swell friends, my mother and 
I — and I don’t think ” 

“Saunders,” said Lord Deppingham sternly, “she loves 
you. I don’t understand why or how, but she does. Just 


220 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


because you have obtained an exalted social position at 
Hammersmith Bridge is no reason you should become a 
snob. I daresay she stands just as well at Brooklyn 
Bridge as you do at Hammersmith. She’s a fine girl and 
would be an adornment to you, such as Hammersmith 
could be proud of. If you want my candid opinion, 
Saunders, I think you’re a silly ass !” 

“Do you really, my lord?” quite humbly. 

“Shall I prove it to you by every man on the place? 
Miss Pelham is quite good enough for any one of us. 
I’d be proud to have her as my wife — if I lived at Ham- 
mersmith Bridge.” 

“You amaze me, sir!” 

“She’s a very pretty girl,” volunteered Chase glibly. 
“Oh, she could marry like a flash in New York,” said 
Britt. “A dozen men I know of are crazy about her. 
Good-looking chaps, too.” The sarcasm escaped Saun- 
ders, who was fidgeting uncomfortably. 

“Of course — you know — the breaking of the engage- 
ment — I should say the row, wasn’t of my doing,” he 
submitted, pulling at his finger joints nervously. 

“I’m afraid it can’t be patched up, either,” said Britt 

dolefully. “She’s been insulted, you see ” 

“Insulted? My eye ! I wouldn’t say anything to hurt 
her for the world. I may have been agitated — very 
likely I said a sharp word or two. But as for insulting 
her — never! She’s told me herself a thousand times 
that she doesn’t mind the word ‘damn’ in the least. That 
may have misled me ” 

“Saunders, we can’t hav^ our only romance marred by 
a breach of promise suit,” said his lordship resolutely. 
“There is simply got to be a wedding in the end or the 
whole world will hate us. Every romance must have its 
young lovers, and even though it doesn’t run smooth, 
love will triumph. So far you have been our prize young 


THE CHARITY BALL 


221 


lover. You are the undisputed hero. Don’t spoil every- 
thing at the last moment, Saunders. Patch it up, and 
let’s have a wedding in the last chapter. You should 
not forget that it was you who advocated multi-marriage. 
Try it once for yourself, and, if you like it, by Jove, 
we’ll all come to your succeeding marriages and bless 
you, no matter how many wives you take unto yourself.” 

Saunders, very much impressed by these confidences, 
bowed himself out of the room, followed by Britt, of 
whom he implored help in the effort to bring about a 
reconciliation. He was sorely distressed by Britt’s ap- 
parent reluctance to compromise the case without mature 
deliberation. 

“You see, old chap,” mused Deppingham, after their 
departure, “matrimony is no trifling thing, after all. No 
matter whether it contemplates a garden in Hammer- 
smith or an island in the South Seas, it has its draw- 
backs.” 

The charity ball began at ten o’clock, schedule time. 
If all of those who participated were not in perfect 
sympathy with the spirit of the mad whim, they at least 
did not deport themselves after the fashion of wet blan- 
kets. To be quite authentic, but two of the promoters 
were heartily involved in the travesty — Lady Agnes, 
whose sprightliness was never dormant, and Bobby 
Browne, who shone in the glamour of his first encounter 
with the nobility. Drusilla Browne, asserting herself as an 
American matron, insisted that the invitation list should 
include the lowly as well as the mighty. She had her 
way, and as a result, the bank employes, the French 
maids, Antoine and the two corporals of Rapp-Thorberg’s 
Royal Guard appeared on the floor in the grand march 
directly behind Mr. Britt, Mr. Saunders, and Miss 
Pelham. 

“One cannot discriminate at the charity ball,” 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


222 

Drusilla had stoutly maintained. “The hoi polloi and 
the riff-raff always get in at home. So, why not here? 
If we’re going to have a charity ball, let’s give it the 
correct atmosphere.” 

“I shall feel as if I were dancing with my green grocer,” 
lamented Lady Agnes. Later on, when the dancing was 
at its height, she exclaimed with all the fervour of a 
charmed imagination : “I feel as the Duchess de What’s- 
her-name must have felt, Bobby, when she danced all 
night at her own ball, and then dressed for the guillo- 
tine instead of going to bed. We may all be shot in the 
morning.” 

The Indian fakirs and showmen gave a performance in 
the courtyard at midnight. They were followed by the 
Bedouin tumblers and the inspired Persians, who danced 
with frantic abandon and the ripe lust of joy. There was 
but one unfortunate accident. Mr. Rivers, formerly of 
the bank, got very tight and fell down the steps leading 
to the courtyard, breaking his left arm. 

Lord Deppingham and Chase kept their heads. They 
saw to it that the watch over the grounds and about the 
chateau was strictly maintained. The former led the 
grand march with the Princess. She was more ravish- 
ingly beautiful than ever. Her gown, exquisitely cool 
and simple, suggested that indefinable, unmistakable 
touch of class that always marks the distinction between 
the woman who subdues the gown and the gown which 
subdues the woman. 

Hollingsworth Chase was dazzled. He discovered, much 
to his subsequent amusement, that he was holding his 
breath as he stared at her from the opposite side of the 
banquet hall, which had been transformed into a ball- 
room. She had just entered with the Deppinghams. 
Something seemed to shout coarsely, scoflingly in his ear: 
“Now, do you realise the distance that lies between? 


THE CHARI j 

She was made for kings and princes, not for such as 
you !” 

He waited long before presenting himself in quest of 
the dance he hungered for so greedily — afraid of her! 
She greeted him with a new, brighter light in her eyes ; 
a quiver of delight, long in restraint, came into her 
voice ; he saw and felt the welcome in her manner. 

The blood surged to his head ; he mumbled his request. 
Then, for the first time, he was near to holding her 
close in his arms — he was clasping her fingers, touching 
her waist, drawing her gently toward his heart. Once, 
as they swept around the almost empty ballroom, she 
looked up into his eyes. Neither had spoken. His lips 
parted suddenly and his fingers closed down upon hers. 
She saw the danger light in his eyes and knew the un- 
uttered words that struggled to his lips and stopped 
there. She never knew why she did it, but she involun- 
tarily shook her head before she lowered her eyes. He 
knew what she meant. His heart turned cold again and 
the distance widened once more to the old proportions. 

He left her with Bobby Browne and went out upon the 
cool, starlit balcony. There he gently cursed himself 
for a fool, a dolt, an idiot. 

The shouts of laughter and the clapping of hands on 
the inside did not draw him from his unhappy reverie. 
He did not know until afterward that the official an- 
nouncement of the engagement of Miss Minnie Pelham 
and Thomas Saunders was made by Bobby Browne and 
the health of the couple drunk in a series of bumpers. 

Chase’s bitter reflections were at last disturbed by a 
sound that came sharply to his attention. He was 
staring moodily into the night, his cigarette drooping 
dejectedly in his lips. The noise came from directly 
below where he stood. He peered over the stone railing. 
The terrace was barely ten feet below him; a mass of 


ROM BRODNEY’S 


.^ugeu bk. - of the wall, dark, thick, fragrant. 
Some one was moving among these stubborn bushes ; 
he could hear him plainly. The next moment a dark fig- 
ure shot out from the shadows and slunk off into 
night, followed by another and another and yet others, 
seven in all. Chase’s mind refused to work quickly. 
He stood as one petrified for a full minute, unable to 
at once grasp the meaning of the performance. 

Then the truth suddenly dawned upon him. The 
prisoners had escaped from the dungeon ! 

He dashed into the ballroom and shouted the alarm. 
Confusion ensued. He called out sharp commands as 
he rushed across to where Deppingham was chatting with 
the Princess. 

“There’s been treachery,” he explained quickly. “Some 
one has released the prisoners. We must keep them from 
reaching the walls. They will overpower our guards and 
open the gates to the enemy. Britt, see that the search- 
light is trained on the gates. We must stop those fel- 
lows before it is too late. Time enough to hunt for the 
traitor later on!” 

Two minutes later, a swarm of armed men forsook the 
mock charity ball and sallied forth to engage in realities. 
Firing was soon heard at the western gate, half a mile 
away. Thither, the eager pursuers rushed. The wide 
ray from the searchlight swung down upon this gate and 
•revealed the forms of struggling men. 

The prisoners had fallen suddenly upon the two Greeks 
who guarded the western gate, surprising them cleverly. 
The Greeks fought for their lives, but were overwhelmed 
in plain view of the relief party which raced toward them. 
Both fell under the clubbed guns of their adversaries. 

Chase and Selim were not more than a hundred yards 
away when the desperate Greeks went down. The blind- 
ing glare of the searchlight aided the pursuers, who kept 


THE CHARITY BALL 


225 


outside its radius. The fugitives, bewildered, confused 
by the bright glare in which they found themselves, faced 
the light boldly, five of them kneeling with guns raised 
to protect their two companions who started across the 
narrow strip which separated them from the massive gate. 
Selim gave a shout and stopped suddenly, throwing his 
rifle to his shoulder. 

“They have the keys!” he cried. “Shoot!” 

His rifle cracked a second later and one of the two 
men leaped into the air and fell like a log. Chase under- 
stood the necessity for quick work and fired an instant 
later. The second man fell in a heap, thirty feet from 
the gate. His companions returned the fire at random 
in the direction from which the well-aimed shots had 
come. 

“Under cover !” shouted Chase. He and Selim dropped 
into the shrubbery in time to escape a withering fire from 
outside the gates. The searchlight revealed a compact 
mass of men beyond the walls. It was then that the 
insiders realised how near they had come to being sur- 
prised and destroyed. A minute more, and the gates 
would have been opened to this merciless horde. 

The prisoners, finding themselves trapped, threw them- 
selves upon the ground and shrieked for mercy. Lord 
Deppingham and the others came up and, scattering 
well, began to fire at the mass outside the wall. The 
islanders were at a disadvantage. They could not locate 
the opposing marksmen on account of the blinding light 
in their faces. It was but a moment before they were 
scampering off into the dark wood, shrieking with rage. 

The five fugitives were compelled to carry their fallen 
comrades and the two Greeks from the open space in 
front of the gates to a point where it was safe for the 
defenders to approach them without coming in line with 
a possible volley from the forest. 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


226 

A small force was left to guard the gate ; the remainder 
returned as quickly as possible to the chateau. The 
Greeks were unconscious, badly battered by the clubbed 
guns. Browne, once more the doctor, attended them 
and announced that they would be on their feet in a day 
or two — “if complications don’t set in.” One of the 
prisoners was dead, shot through the heart by the deadly 
Selim. The other had a shattered shoulder. 

Immediately upon the return to the chateau, an inspec- 
tion of the dungeons was made, prior to an examination 
of the servants in the effort to apprehend the traitor. 

The three men who went down into the damp, chill re- 
gions below ground soon returned with set* pale faces. 
There had been no traitor ! 

The man whose duty it was to guard the prisoners was 
found lying inside the big cell, his throat cut from ear 
to ear, stone dead ! 

There was but one solution. He had been seized from 
within as he came to the grating in response to a call. 
While certain fingers choked him into silence, others held 
his hands and still others wrenched the keys from his 
sash. After that it was easy. Deppingham, Chase and 
Selim looked at each other in horror — and, strange as 
it may seem, relief. 

Death was there, but, after all, Death is no traitor. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE JOY OF TEMPTATION 

The revolting details were kept from the women. They 
were not permitted to know of the ugly thing that swel- 
tered in the dark corridor below their very feet. Late in 
the night, a small body of men, acting under orders, car- 
ried the unfortunate guard down into the valley and 
buried him. Only the most positive stand on the part of 
the white men prevented the massacre of the prisoners by 
the friends and fellow-servants of the murdered man. A 
secret trial by jury, at a later day, was promised by Lord 
Deppingham. 

There was but little sleep in the chateau that night. 
The charity ball was forgotten — or if recalled at all, only 
in connection with the thought of what it came so near 
to costing its promoters. 

No further disturbances occurred. A strict watch was 
preserved; the picturesque drawbridge was lifted and 
there were lights on the terrace and galleries; men slept 
within easy reach of their weapons. The siege had be- 
gun in earnest. Men had been slain and their blood was 
crying out for vengeance; the voice of justice was lost 
in the clamourings of rage. 

Breakfast found no laggards; the lazy comforts of the 
habitually late were abandoned for the more stirring in- 
terests that had come to occupy the time and thoughts 
of all concerned. The Princess was quite serene. She 
lightly announced that the present state of affairs was 
no worse than that which she was accustomed to at home. 
The court of Rapp-Thorberg was ever in a state of 
unrest, despite its outward suggestion of security. Out- 
breaks were common among the masses ; somehow, they 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


228 

were suppressed before they grew large enough to be 
noticed by the wide world. 

“We invariably come out on top,” she philosophised, 
“and so shall we here. At home we always eat, drink 
and make merry, for to-morrow never comes.” 

“That’s all very nice,” said Lady Agnes plaintively, 
“but I’m thinking of yesterday. Those fellows who 
were killed can’t die to-morrow, you know ; it occurred 
to them yesterday. It’s always yesterday after one dies.” 

Soon after breakfast was over, Chase announced his 
intention to visit each of the gates in turn. The Prin- 
cess strolled with him as far as the bridge at the foot 
of the terrace. They stopped in the shade of a clump 
of trees that hung upon the edge of the stream. As they 
were gravely discussing the events of the night, Neenah 
came up to them from beyond the bridge. Her dark, 
brilliant face was glowing with excitement ; the cheer- 
ful adoration that one sees in a dog’s eyes shone in hers 
as she salaamed gracefully to the “Sahib.” She had no 
eyes for royalty. 

“Excellency,” she began breathlessly, “it is Selim who 
would have private speech with the most gracious sahib. 
It is to be quick, excellency. Selim is under the ground, 
excellency.” 

“In the cellars?” 

“Yes, excellency. It is so dark there that one cannot 
see, but Neenah will lead you. Selim has sent me. But 
come now !” 

Chase felt his ears burn when he turned to find a deli- 
cate, significant smile on Genevra’s lips. “Don’t let me 
detain you,” she said, ever so politely. 

“Wait, please!” he exclaimed. “Is Selim hurt?” he 
demanded of Neenah, who shook her head vigorously. 

“Then, there is no reason why you should not accom- 
pany us, Princess.” 


THE JOY OF TEMPTATION 229 

“I am not at all necessary to the undertaking,” she 
said coldly, turning to leave him. 

“Selim has found fuses and gunpowder laid in the 
cellars, excellency — in the secret vaults,” began Neenah 
eagerly, divining the cause of the white lady’s hesitation. 

This astounding piece of news swept away the feeble 
barrier Genevra would have erected in her pique. Eag- 
erly she joined in questioning the Persian girl, but Neenah 
would only reply that Selim was waiting for the sahib. 
The Princess was immeasurably consoled to find that 
the body-servant had destroyed the fuses and that they 
were in no immediate danger of being blown to pieces. 
She consented to accompany Chase into the cellars, a 
spirit of adventure overcoming certain scruples which 
might have restrained her under other conditions. 

Neenah led them through the wine cellars and down 
into the vaults beyond the dungeons. They descended 
three steep flights of stone steps, into the cold, damp 
corridors of the lowermost cellars. Neenah explained 
that it was necessary to move cautiously and without 
lights. Selim was confident that there was at least one 
traitor among the servants. The Princess clutched 
Chase’s hand tightly as they stole through the bleak, 
chill corridor; she found herself wondering if the girl 
was to be trusted. What if she were leading them into 
a trap? She would have whispered her fears into Chase’s 
car had not a sharp “sh’ ” come from the girl who was 
leading. Genevra felt a queer little throb of hatred for 
the girl — she could not explain it. 

The dungeon was off to the right. They could hear 
the insistent murmur of voices, with now and then a 
laugh from the distant cells. The guard could be heard 
scoffing at his charges. With a caution that seemed wholly 
absurd to the two white people, Neenah guided them 
through the maze of narrow passages, dark as Erebus 


230 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


and chill as the grave. Chase checked a hysterical im- 
pulse to laugh aloud at the proceedings ; it was like play- 
ing at a children’s game. 

He was walking between the two women, Neenah ahead, 
Genevra behind; each clasped one of his hands. Sud- 
denly he found himself experiencing an overpowering 
desire to exert the strength of his arm to draw the Prin- 
cess close — close to his insistent body. The touch of her 
flesh, the clutch of her cold little hand, filled him with the 
most exquisite sense of possession ; the magnetism of life 
charged from one to the other, striking fire to the blood ; 
sex tingled in this delicious riot of the senses ; all went 
to inspire and encourage the reckless joy that was mas- 
tering him. He felt his arm grow taut with the 
irresistible impulse. He was forgetting Neenah, forget- 
ting himself — thinking only of the opportunity and its 
fascination. In another instant he would have drawn 
her hand to his lips: Neenah came to a standstill and 
uttered a warning whisper. Chase recovered himself 
with a mighty start, a chill as of one avoiding an unseen 
peril sweeping over him. Genevra heard the sharp, 
painful intake of his breath and felt the sudden relaxa- 
tion of his fingers. She was not puzzled; she, too, 
had felt the magic of the touch and her blood was surg- 
ing red; she knew, then, that she had been clasping his 
hand with a fervour that was as unmistakable as it was 
shameless. 

She was again forgetting that princesses should dwell 
in the narrow realm of self. 

Neenah may have felt the magnetic current that 
coursed through these surcharged creatures: she was 
smiling mysteriously to herself. 

“Wait here,” she whispered to Chase, ever so softly. 
She released his hand and moved off in the blackness of 
the passage. “I will bring Selim,” came back to them. 


THE JOY OF TEMPTATION 


231 


“Oh !” fell faintly, tremulously from Genevra’s lips. It 
was a trap, after all! But it was not the trap laid by 
a traitor. She fell all a-quiver. Her heart fluttered 
violently, her breath came quickly. Alone with him — 
and their blood leaping to the touch that thrilled ! 

Chase could no more have restrained the hand that 
went out suddenly in quest of hers than he could have 
checked his own heart throbs. A wave of exquisite joy 
swept over him — the joy of a temptation that knew no 
fear or conscience. He found her cold little hand and 
clasped it in tense fingers — fingers that throbbed with 
the call to passion. He drew her close — their bodies 
touched and sweetly trembled. His lips were close to 
her ear — the smell of her hair was in his quivering nos- 
trils. He heard her quick, sharp breathing. 

“Are you afraid?” he whispered in tones he had never 
heard before. 

“Yes,” she murmured convulsively — “of you! Please, 
please, don’t!” At the same time, she tightened her 
clutch upon his hand and crept closer to him, governed 
by an unconquerable craving. Chase had the sensation 
of smothering ; he could not believe the senses which told 
him that she was responding to his appeal. His brain 
was whirling, his heart bounding like mad. Her voice, 
soft and appealing, turned his blood to fire. 

“Genevra!” he murmured — almost gasped — in his de- 
lirium. Their bodies were pressed close to each other — 
his arms went about her slender figure suddenly and she 
was strained to his breast, locked to him with bonds that 
seemed unbreakable. Her face was lifted to his. The 
blackness of the passage was impenetrable, but love was 
the guide. He found her lips in one wild, glorious kiss. 

A door creaked sharply. He released her. Their quiv- 
ering arms fell away; they drew ever so slightly apart, 
still under the control of the influence which had held 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


them for that brief moment. She was trembling vio- 
lently. A soft, wailing sigh, as of pain, came from her 
lips. 

Then the glimmer of a light came to them through 
the half open door at the end of the passage. They 
gazed at it without comprehension, dumb in their sud- 
den weakness. A shadowy figure came out through the 
door and Selim’s voice, low and tense, called to them. 

Still speechless, they moved forward involuntarily. He 
did not attempt to take her hand. He was afraid — 
vastly afraid of what he had done, unaccountable as it 
may seem. That piteous sigh wrought shame in his 
heart. He felt that he had wronged her — had seized 
upon a willing, hapless victim when she had not the power 
to defend herself against her own impulses. 

“Forgive me,” he murmured. 

“It is too late,” she replied. Then his hand sought hers 
again and, dizzy with emotion, he led her up to the 
open door. As they passed into the huge, dimly lighted 
chamber, he turned to look into her face. She met his 
gaze and there were tears in her eyes. Selim was ahead 
of them. She shook her head sadly and he understood. 

“Can we ever forget?” she murmured plaintively. 

“Never!” he whispered. 

“Then we shall always regret — always regret!” she 
said, withdrawing her hand. “It was the beginning and 
the end.” 

“Not the end, dearest one — if we are always to regret,” 
he interposed eagerly. “But why the end? You do 
love me ! I know it ! And I worship you — oh, you don’t 
know how I worship you, Genevra ! I ” 

“Hush! We were fools! Don’t, please! I do not 
love you. I was carried away by — Oh, can’t you un- 
derstand? Remember what I am! You knew and yet 
you have degraded me in my own eyes. Is my own self- 


THE JOY OF TEMPTATION 


233 


respect nothing? You will laugh and you may boast 
after I am married to ” 

“Genevra!” he protested as if in great pain. 

“Excellency,” came from the lips of Selim, at the lower 
end of the chamber, breaking in sharply upon their 
little world. “There is no time to be lost.” Time to be 
lost ! And he had held her in his arms ! Time to be lost ! 
All the rest of Time was to be lost ! “They may return 
at any moment.” 

Chase pulled himself together. He looked into her eyes 
for a moment, finding nothing there but a command to 
go. She stood straight and unyielding on the very spot 
which had seen her trembling with emotion but a mo- 
ment before. 

“Coming, Selim,” he said, and moved away from her 
side as Neenah came toward them from the opposite 
wall. Genevra did not move. She stood quite still and 
numb, watching his tall figure crossing the stone floor. 
Ah, what a man he was! The little Persian wife of 
Selim, after waiting for a full minute, gently touched 
the arm of the Princess. Genevra started and looked 
down into the dark, accusing, smiling eyes. She flushed 
deeply and hated herself. 

“Shall we go back?” she asked nervously. “I — I have 
seen enough. Come, Neenah. Lead me back to ” 

“Most glorious excellency,” said Neenah, shaking her 
pretty head, “we are to wait here. The sahib and Selim 
will join us soon.” 

“Where are they going?” demanded the Princess, a 
feeling of awe coming over her. “I don’t want to be left 
here alone.” Chase and Selim had opened a low, heavy 
iron door at the lower end and were peering into the 
darkness beyond. 

“Selim will explain. He has learned much. It is the 
secret passage to the coast. Be not afraid.” 


234 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

Genevra looked about her for the first time. They 
were standing in a long, low room, the walls of which 
reeked with dampness and gave out a noxious odour. A 
single electric light provided a faint, almost unnatural 
light. Selim raised a lighted lantern as he led Chase 
through the squat door. Behind Genevra were enormous 
casks, a dozen or more, reaching almost to the ceiling. 
A number of boxes stood close by, while on the opposite 
side of the chamber four small iron chests were to be 
seen, dragged out from recesses in the distant corner. 
It was not unlike the mysterious treasure cave of the 
pirates that her brother had stealthily read about to her 
in childhood days. Observing her look of wonder, 
Neenah vouchsafed a casual explanation. 

“It is the wine cellar and the storeroom. The iron 
chests contain the silver and gold plate that came from 
the great Rajah of Murpat in exchange for the five huge 
rubies which now adorn his crown. The Rajah bar- 
tered his entire service of gold and silver for those won- 
derful gems. The old sahibs stored the chests here 
many years ago. But few know of their existence. 
See! They were hidden in the walls over there. Yon 
Blitz has found them.” 

“Von Blitz !” in amazement. 

“He has been here. He has carried away many chests. 
There were twenty in all.” 

“And — and he will return for these?” queried the Prin- 
cess in alarm. 

“Assuredly, most glorious one. Soon, perhaps. But 
be not afraid. Selim can close the passage door. He 
cannot get in. He will be fooled, eh? Why should you 
be afraid? Have you not with you the most wonderful, 
the most brave sahib? Would he not give his life for 
you?” The dark eyes sparkled with understanding — 
aye, even mischief. Genevra felt that this Oriental witch 


THE JOY OF TEMPTATION 


235 


knew everything. For a long time she looked in uncer- 
tain mood upon that smiling, wistful face. Then she 
said softly, moved by an irresistible impulse to confess 
something, even obscurely : 

Oh, if only I were such as you, Neenah, and could 
live forever on this dear island!” 

Neenah’s smile deepened, her eyes glowed with discern- 
ment. With a meaning gleam in their depths, she said : 
“But, most high, there are no princes here. There is 
no one to whom the most gracious one could be sold. No 
one who could pay more than a dozen rubies. Women 
are cheap here, and you would be a woman, not a most 
beautiful princess.” 

“I would not care to be a princess, perhaps.” 

“You love my Sahib Chase?” demanded Neenah 
abruptly, eagerly. 

“Neenah!” gasped Genevra, with a startled look. 
Neenah looked intently into the unsteady, blue-grey eyes 
and then bent over to kiss the hand of the Princess. The 
latter laughed almost aloud in her confusion. She 
caught herself up quickly and said with some asperity : 
“You foolish child, I am to become a prince’s wife. 
How can I love your sahib ? What nonsense ! I am to 
marry a prince and he is not to pay for me in 
rubies.” 

“Ah, how wonderful!” cried Neenah, with ravishing 
candour. “A prince for a husband and the glorious 
Sahib Chase for a lover all your life! Ah!” The ex- 
clamation was no less than a sigh of rapturous endorse- 
ment. 

The Princess stared at her first in consternation, then 
in dismay. Before she could find words to combat this 
alarming prophecy, so ingenuously presented to her re- 
flections, Selim and Hollingsworth Chase returned to the 
chamber. She was distressed, even confounded, to find 


236 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


that she was staring at Chase with a strange, abashed 
curiosity growing in her eyes — a stare that she suddenly 
was afraid he might observe and appreciate. A wave of 
revulsion, of shame, spread over her whole being. She 
shuddered slightly as she turned her face away from his 
eager gaze: it was as if she recognised the fear that 
he was even now contemplating the future as Neenah 
had painted it for her. 

She caught and checked a horrid arraignment of her- 
self. Such conditions as Neenah presented were not un- 
known to her. With the swiftness of lightning, she re- 
called the things that had been said of more than one 
grand dame in Europe — aye, of women at her own 
court. Even a princess she had known who — but for 
shame ! she cried in her heart. It could not be ! Despite 
herself, a cruel, distressing shyness came over her as he 
approached, his eyes glowing with the light she feared 
yet craved. Was this man to remain in her life? Was 
he? Would he come to her and wage the unfair war? 
Was he honest? Was he even now coveting her as other 
men had coveted the women she knew and despised ? She 
found herself confronted by the shocking conviction that 
he knew she could never be his wife. He knew she was 
to wed another, and yet — It was unbelievable! 

She met his eager advance with a quick, shrill laugh of 
defiance, and noted the surprise in his eyes. Dim as the 
light was, she could have sworn that the look in those 
eyes was honest. Ah, that silly Neenah! The reaction 
was as sudden as the revolt had been. Her smile grew 
warm and shy. 

“Yon Blitz has been here,” he was saying, half diffi- 
dently, still searching deep in her eyes. “He’s played 
hob. And he’s likely to return at any minute.” 

“Then let us go quickly. I have no desire to meet the 
objectionable Mr. Von Blitz. Isn’t it dreadfully dan- 


THE JOY OF TEMPTATION 


<W 


gerous here, Mr. Chase ?” He mistook the slight tremour 
in her voice for that of fear. A quaint look came into 
his face, the lines about the corners of his mouth droop- 
ing dolefully. 

“Mr. Chase?” he said, with his winning smile. “Now?” 

“Yes, now and always, Mr. Chase,” she said steadily. 
“You know that it cannot be otherwise. I can’t always 
be a fool.” 

His face turned a deep red; his lips parted for retort to 
this truculent estimate, but he controlled himself. 

“Yes, it is dangerous here,” he said quietly, answering 
her question. “As soon as Selim bars that door upon 
the inside, we’ll go. I was a fool to bring you 
here.” 

“How could you know what .the dangers wouid be?” 
she asked. 

“I’ll confess I didn’t expect Von Blitz,” he said drily. 

“But you did expect — ” she began, with a start, bit- 
ing her lips. 

“There’s a vast difference between expectation and 
hope, Princess.” Neenah had joined Selim at the door 
when the men re-entered the chamber. Now she was ap- 
proaching with her husband. 

“May Allah bless you and profit for Himself, excel- 
lencies,” said the good Selim. Neenah plainly had ad- 
vanced her suspicions to the brown body-servant. 
Genevra blushed and then her eyes blazed. She gave 
the girl a scornful look ; Neenah smiled happily, unre- 
servedly in return. 

“Allah help us, you should say, if Von Blitz returns,” 
interposed Chase hastily. “Is the door barred?” 

“No, excellency. The bars have sprung. I cannot 
drop them in place. As you know, the lock has been 
blown away. The charge sprung the bolts. We must 
go at once.” 


238 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Then there is no way to keep them out of the 
chateau ?” cried Genevra anxiously. 

“They can go no farther than this room,” explained 
Selim. “We lock the double iron doors from the other 
side — the door through which you came, most glorious 
excellency — and they cannot enter the cellars above. 
This is the chamber which opens into the underground 
passage to the coast. The passage was made for escape 
from the chateau in case of trouble and was known to 
but few. My father was the servant of Sahib Wyck- 
holme, and I used to live in the chateau. We came to 
the island when I was a baby. My father had been with 
the sahib in Africa. I came to know of this passage, 
for my father and my mother were to go with the mas- 
ters if there was an attack. Five years ago I was given 
a place in the company’s office, and I never came up 
here after my parents died of the plague. We 
were ” 

“The plague!” cried the Princess. 

“It was said to have been the plague,” said Selim bit- 
terly. “They died in great convulsions while spending 
the night in the Khan. That’s the inn of Aratat, excel- 
lencies. The great sahibs sent their stomachs away to 
be examined ” 

“Never mind, Selim,” said Chase. “Tell us about the 
passage there.” 

“Once there was a boat — a launch, which lay hidden 
below the cliffs on the north coast. The passage led 
to this boat. It was always ready to put out to sea. But 
one night it was destroyed by the great rocks which 
fell from the cliffs in an earthquake. When I came here, 
I at once thought of the passage. You will see that the 
doors into the cellar cannot be opened from this cham- 
ber; the locks and bolts are on the other side. I knew 
where the keys were hidden. It was easy to unlock the 


THE JOY OF TEMPTATION 


289 


doors and come into this room. I found that some one 
had been here before me. The door to the passage had 
been forced open from without — cracked by dynamite. 
Many of the treasure boxes have been removed. Yon 
Blitz was here not an hour ago. He wears boots. I saw 
the footprints among the naked ones in the passage. 
They will come back for the other chests. Then they 
will blow up the passage way with powder and escape 
from the chateau through it will be cut off. I have found 
the kegs of powder in the passage and have destroyed 
the fuses. It will be of no avail, sahib. They will 
blow it up at the other end, which will be just the 
same.” 

“There’s no time to be lost,” cried Chase. “We must 
bring enough men down here to capture them when they 
return — shoot ’em if necessary. Come on ! We can sur- 
prise them if we hurry.” 

They were starting across the chamber toward the 
door, when a gruff, sepulchral oath came rolling up to 
the chamber through the secret passage. Quick as a 
flash Selim, who realised that they could not reach and 
open the door leading to the stairs, turned in among the 
huge wine casks, first blinding his lantern. He whis- 
pered for the others to follow. In a moment they were 
squeezing themselves through the narrow spaces between 
the dark, strong-smelling casks, back into a darkness so 
opaque that it seemed lifeless. Selim halted them in a 
recess near the wall and there they huddled, breathlessly 
awaiting the approach of the invaders. 

“They won’t suspect that we are here,” whispered Selim 
as the door to the passage creaked. “Keep quiet! 
Don’t breathe!” 

The single electric light was still burning, as Selim 
had found it when he first came. The door swung open 
slowly, heavily, and Jacob von Blitz, half naked, mud- 


240 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


covered, reeking with perspiration, and panting sav- 
agely, stepped into the light. Behind him came a man 
with a lantern, and behind him two others. 

They were white men, all. Von Blitz turned suddenly 
and cursed the man with the lantern. The fellow was 
ready to drop with exhaustion. Evidently it had been no 
easy task to remove the chests. 


V 


CHAPTER XXIV 


SEVERAL PHILOSOPHERS 

The four burly men sat down upon the chests, Von 
Blitz alone being visible to the watchers. They were 
fagged to the last extreme. 

“Dis is der last,” panted Von Blitz, blowing hard and 
stretching his big arms. The guttural German tones 
were highly accentuated by the effort required in speak- 
ing. His three helpers said nothing in reply. For 
fully five minutes the quartette sat silent, collecting their 
strength for the next trip with the chests. Again it was 
Von Blitz who spoke. He had been staring savagely at 
the floor for several minutes, brooding deeply. 

“I fix him,” he growled. “His time vill come, by tarn! 
I let him know he can’t take my vives avay mit him. 
Der dog! I fix him some day purdy soon. Und dem 
tarn vimmens ! Dem tarn hyenas ! Dey run avay mit 
him, eh? Ach, Gott, if I could only put my hands by 
deir necks yet!” 

“Vat for you fret, Yacob?” growled one of the Boers. 
“You couldn’t take dose vimmens back by Europe mit 
you. I tink you got goot luck by losing dem. Misder 
Chase can’t take dem back needer — so, dey go to hell yet. 
Don’t fret.” 

“Veil,” said Von Blitz, arising. “Come on, boys. Dis 
is der lasd c 1 dem. Den ve blow der tarn t’ing up. Grab 
hold dere, Joost. Up mit it, Jan. Vat? No?” 

“Gott in himmel, Yacob, vait a minutes. My back is 
proke,” protested Joost stubbornly. Von Blitz swore 
steadily for a minute, but could not move the impassive 
Boers. He began pacing back and forth, growling to 
himself. At last he stopped in front of the tired trio. 


242 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Vat for you tink I vant you in on dis, you svine? 
To set aroundt und dream? Nobody else knows aboud 
dis treasures, und ve got it all for ourselves — ve four 
und no more, und you say, 6 Vat’s der burry?’ It’s all 
ours. Ve divide it oop in der cave mit all der money ve 
get from der bank. Vat? Yes? Den, ven der time 
comes, ve send it all by Australia und no von is der viser. 
Der natives von’t know und der white peebles von’t be 
alive to care aboudt it. Ve let it stay hided in der cave 
undil dis drouble is all over und den it vill be easy to 
get it avay from der island, yoost so quiet. Come on, 
boys ! Don’t be lazy !” 

“I don’t like dot scheme to rob der bank,” growled 
Jan. “If der peeples get onto us, dey vould cut us 
to bieces.” 

“But dey von’t get onto us, you fool. Dey vouldn’t 
take it demselves if it vas handed to dem. Dey’re too 
honest, yes. Veil, don’t dey say ve’re honest, too? Veil, 
vat more you vant? Dey don’t know how much money 
und rubies dere is in der bank. Ve von’t take all of it — 
und dey von’t know der difference. Ve bum der books. 
Das is all. Ve get in by der bank to-night, boys.” 

“I don’t like id,” said Joost. “Id’s stealing from our 
freunds, Yacob. Besides, if der oder heirs should go 
before der government mit der story. Vat den?” 

“Der oder heirs vill never get der chance, boys. Dey 
vill die mit der plague — ha, ha! Sure! Dere von’t be 
no oder heirs. Rasula says it must be so. Ve can’d 
vait, boys. It vill be years before der business is settled. 
Ve must get vat ve can now and vait for der decision 
aftervards. Brodney has wrote to Rasula, saying dat 
dot Chase feller is to stay here vedder ve vant him or 
not. He says Chase is a goot man ! By tarn, it makes 
me cry to t’ink of vot he has done by me — dot goot 
man !” 


SEVERAL PHILOSOPHERS 243 

To the amazement of all, the burly German began 
to blubber. 

“Don’t cry, Yacob,” cried Joost, coming to his master’s 
side and shaking him by the shoulder. “You can get 
oder vives some day — besser as dese, yes !” 

“Joost, I can’t help crying — I can’t. Ven I t’ink 
how I got to kill dem yet ! I hates to kill vimmens.” 

They permitted him to weep and swear for a few min- 
utes. Then, without offering further consolation, the 
three foremen made ready to take up the remaining 
chests. 

“Come on, Yacob,” said Jan gruffly. 

Von Blitz shook his fist at the door across the chamber 
and thundered his final maledictions. 

“Sir John says in der letter to Misder Chase dere is 
a movements on foot in London to settle der contest 
out of court,” volunteered Joost. 

“Sure, but he also say dat ve all may die mit old age 
before it is over yet.” 

“Don’t forget der plague!” said Jan. 

They groaned mightily as they lifted the heavy chests 
to their shoulders and started for the door. 

“Close der door, Jan,” commanded Von Blitz from the 
passage. “Ve vill light der fuse ven ve haf got beyond 
der first bend. Vat? Look ! By tarn, von of you swine 
has broke der fuse. Vait! Ve vill fix him now.” 

The door was closed behind them, but the listeners 
could hear them repairing the damage that Selim had 
done to the fuse. 

Led by Selim, the four made a rush for the door lead- 
ing into the chateau. They threw it open and passed 
through, flying as if for their lives. No one could tell 
how soon an explosion might bring disaster to the re- 
gion ; they put distance between them and the powder 
keg. Selim paused long enough to drop the bolts and 


244 THE MAN FROM BRODNElY’S 

turn the great key with the lever. At the second turn 
in the narrow corridor, he overtook Chase and the 
scurrying women. 

“Is there nothing to be done?” cried the Princess. 
“Can we not prevent the explosion? They will cut off 
our means of escape in that ” 

“I know too much about gunpowder, Princess,” said 
Chase drily, “to fool with it. It’s like a mule. It kicks 
hard. ’Gad, it was hard to stand there and hear 
•those brutes planning it all and not be able to stop 
them.” 

The Princess was once more at his side ; he had clasped 
her arm to lead her securely in the wake of Neenah’s 
electric lantern. She came to a sudden stop. 

“And pray, Mr. Chase,” she said sharply, as if the 
thought occurred to her for the first time, “why didn’t 
you stop them? You had the advantage. You and 
Selim could have surprised them — you could have taken 
them without a struggle !” 

He laughed softly, deprecatingly, not a little impressed 
by the justice of her criticism. 

“No doubt you consider me a coward,” he said rue- 
fully. 

“You know that I do not,” she protested. “I — I can’t 
understand your motive, that is all.” 

“You forget that I am the representative of these very 
men. I am the trusted agent of Sir John Brodney, 
who has refused to supplant me with another. All this 
may sound ridiculous to you, when you take my anoma- 
lous position into account. I can’t very well represent 
Sir John and at the same time make prisoners or corpses 
of his clients, even though I am being shielded by their 
legal foes. I don’t mean to say that I condone the 
attempt Yon Blitz is making to rob his fellow-work- 
men of this hidden plate and the plunder in the bank. 


SEVERAL PHILOSOPHERS 


245 


They are traitors to their friends and I shall turn them 
over sooner or later to the people they are looting. I’ll 
not have Von Blitz saying, even to himself, that I have 
not only stolen his wives but have also cast him into 
the hands of his philistines. It may sound quixotic to 
you, but I think that Lord Deppingham and Mr. Browne 
will understand my attitude.” 

“But Von Blitz has sworn to kill you,” she expostulated 
with some heat. “You are wasting your integrity, I 
must say, Mr. Chase.” 

“Would you have me shoot him from ambush?” he 
demanded. 

“Not at all. You could have taken him captive and 
held him safe until the time comes for you to leave the 
island.” 

“He would not have been my captive in any event. I 
could do no more than deliver him into the hands of 
his enemies. Would that be fair?” 

“But he is a thief!” 

“No more so than Taswell Skaggs and John Wyck- 
holme, who unquestionably cheated the natives out of the 
very treasure we have seen carried away.” 

“Admitting all that, Mr. Chase, you still forget that 
he has stolen property which now belongs quite as 
much to Lady Deppingham and Mr. Browne as it does 
to the natives.” 

“Quite true. But I am not a constable nor a thief 
catcher. I am a soldier of the defence, not an officer of 
the Crown at this stage of the game. To-day I shall 
contrive to send word to Rasula that Von Blitz has 
stolen the treasure chests. Mr. Von Blitz will have a 
sad time explaining this little defection to his friends. 
We must not overlook the fact that Lad}" Deppingham 
and Robert Browne are quite willing to take everything 
from the islanders. Everything that Taswell Skaggs 


246 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


and John Wyckholme possessed in this island belongs to 
them under the terms of the will.” 

They were at the top of the second flight of stairs 
by this time and quite a distance from the treasure cham- 
ber. His coolness, the absence of any sign of returning 
sentiment, was puzzling her sorely. Every vestige of 
that emotion which had overwhelmed him during their 
sweet encounter was gone, to all appearances: he was 
as calm and as matter-of-fact as if she were the merest 
stranger. She was trying to find the solution — trying 
to read the mind of this smiling philosopher. Half an 
hour before, she had been carried away, rendered help- 
less by the passion that swayed him ; now he spoke and 
looked as if he had forgotten the result of his storm- 
ing. Strangely enough, she was piqued. 

When they came into the well-lighted upper corridor 
he proceeded ruthlessly to upset all of her harsh calcula- 
tions. They were now traversing the mosaic floors of 
the hall that led to the lower terraces. He stopped sud- 
denly, stepping directly in front of her. As she drew 
up in surprise, he reached down and took both of her 
hands in his. For the moment, she was too amazed to 
oppose this sudden action. She looked up into his face, 
many emotions in her own — reproof, wonder, dismay, 
hauteur — j oy ! 

“Wait,” he said gently. They were quite alone. The 
stream of daylight from the distant French windows 
barely reached to this quiet spot. She saw the most 
wonderful light in his grey eyes; her lips parted in 
quick, timorous confusion. “I love you. I am sorry for 
what I did down there. I couldn’t help it — nor could 
you. Yet I took a cruel advantage of you. I know 
what you’ve been thinking, too. You have been saying 
to yourself that I wanted to see how far I could go — 
don’t speak ! I know. You are wrong. I’ve absolutely 


SEVERAL PHILOSOPHERS 


247 


worshipped you since those first days in Thorberg — 
wildly, hopelessly — day and night. I was afraid of you 
— yes, afraid of you because you are a princess. But 
Fve got over all that, Genevra. You are a woman — a 
living, real woman with the blood and the heart and the 
lips that were made for men to crave. I want to tell 
you this, here in the light of day, not in the darkness that 
hid all the truth in me except that which you might have 
felt in my kiss.” 

“Please, please don’t,” she said once more, her lip 
trembling, her eyes full of the softness that the woman 
who loves cannot hide. “You shall not go on! It is 
wrong !” 

“It is not wrong,” he cried passionately. “My love 
is not wrong. I want you to understand and to believe. 
I can’t hope that you will be my wife — it’s too wildly 
improbable. You are not for such as I. You are 
pledged to a man of your own world — your own exalted 
world. But listen, Genevra — see, my eyes call you 
darling even though my lips dare not — Genevra, I’d 
give my soul to hear you say that you will be my wife. 
You do understand how it is with me?” 

The delicious sense of possession thrilled her; she 
glowed with the return of her self-esteem, in the restora- 
tion of that quality which proclaimed her a princess of 
the blood. She was sure of him now ! She was sure of 
herself. She had her emotions well in hand. And so, 
despite the delicious warmth that swept through her 
being, she chose to reveal no sign of it to him. 

“I do understand,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze 
with a directness that hurt him sorely. “And you, too, 
understand. I could not be your wife. I am glad yet 
sorry that you love me, and I am proud to have heard 
you say that you want me. But I am a sensible creature, 
Mr. Chase, and, being sensible, am therefore selfish. I 


248 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


have seen women of my unhappy station venture out- 
side of their narrow confines in the search for life-long 
joy with men who might have been kings had they not 
been bom under happier stars — men of the great wide 
world instead of the soulless, heartless patch which such 
as I call a realm. Not one in a hundred of those women 
found the happiness they were so sure of grasping just 
outside their prison walls. It was not in the blood. We 
are the embodiment of convention, the product of tradi- 
tion. Time has proved in nearly every instance that we 
cannot step from the path our prejudices know. We 
must marry and live and die in the sphere to which we 
were born. It must sound very bald to you, but the 
fact remains, just the same. We must go through life 
unloved and uncherished, bringing princes into the world, 
seeing happiness and love just beyond our reach all the 
time. We have hearts and we have blood in our veins, 
as you say, and we may love, too, but believe me, dear 
friend, we are bound by chains no force can break — 
the chains of prejudice.” 

She had withdrawn her hands from his ; he was stand- 
ing before her as calm and unmoved as a statue. 

“I understand all of that,” he said, a faint smile mov- 
ing his lips. She was not expecting such resignation 
as this. 

“I am glad that you — that you understand,” she 
said. 

“Just the same,” he went on gently, “you love me as 
I love you. You kissed me. I could feel love in you 
then. I can see it in you now. Perhaps you are right 
in what you say about not finding happiness outside the 
walls, but I doubt it, Genevra. You will marry Prince 
Karl in June, and all the rest of your life will be bleak 
December. You will never forget this month of 
March — our month.” He paused for a moment to look 


SEVERAL PHILOSOPHERS 


249 


deeply into her incredulous eyes. His face writhed in 
sudden pain. Then he burst forth with a vehemence 
that startled her. “My God, I pity you with all my soul ! 
All your life!” 

“Don’t pity me !” she cried fiercely. “I cannot endure 
that !” 

“Forgive me! I shouldn’t say such things to you. 
It’s as if I were bullying you.” 

“You must not think of me as unhappy — ever. Go 
on your own way, Hollingsworth Chase, and forget that 
you have known me. You will find happiness with some 
one else. You have loved before; you can and will love 
again. I — I have never loved before — but perhaps, like 
you, I shall love again. You will love again?” she de- 
manded, her lip trembling with an irresolution she could 
not contpol. 

“Yes,” he said calmly, “I’ll love the wife of Karl Bra- 
betz.” His eyes swept hungrily over the golden bronze 
hair ; then he turned away with the short, hard laugh of 
the man who scoffs at his own despair. She started vio- 
lently ; her cheek went red and white and her eyes wid- 
ened as though they were looking upon something un- 
pleasant ; her thoughts went back to the naive prophecy 
in the treasure chamber. 

She followed him slowly to the terrace. He stopped 
in the doorway and leisurely drew forth his cigarette 
case. 

“Shall we wait for the explosion?” he asked without a 
sign of the emotion that had gone before. She gravely 
selected a cigarette from the case which he extended. As 
he lighted his own, he watched her draw from her little 
gold bag a diamond-studded case, half filled. Without 
a word of apology, she calmly deposited the cigarette in 
the case and restored it to the bottom of the bag. 

Then she looked up brightly. “I am not smoking, you 


250 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


see,” she said, with a smile. “I am saving all of these 
for you when the famine comes.” 

“By J ove !” he exclaimed, something like incredulity in 
the smile that transfigured his face. 

“I could be a thrifty housewife, couldn’t I?” she asked 
naivety. 

At that moment, a dull, heavy report, as of distant 
thunder, came to their ears. The windows rattled 
sharply and the earth beneath them seemed to quiver. 
Involuntarily she drew nearer to him, casting a glance 
of alarm over her shoulder in the direction from which 
they had come. 

“You could, if you had half a chance,” he said drily, 
and then casually remarked the explosion. 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE DISQUIETING END OF PONG 

Later on, he and Deppingham visited the underground 
chamber, accompanied by Mr. Britt. They found that 
the door to the passage had been blown away by the 
terrific concussion. Otherwise, the room was, to all ap- 
pearances, undamaged, except that some of the wine 
casks were leaking. The subterranean passage at this 
place was completely filled with earth and stone. 

Deppingham stared at the closed mouth of the passage. 
“They’ve cut off our exit, but they’ve also secured us 
from invasion from this source. I wonder if the beggars 
were clever enough to carry the plunder above the flood 
line. If not, they’ve had their work for nothing.” 

“Selim says there is a cave near the mouth of the pas- 
sage,” said Chase. “The tunnel comes out half way up 
the side of the mountain, overlooking the sea, and the 
hole is very carefully screened by the thick shrubbery. 
Trust Von Blitz to do the safe thing.” 

“I don’t mind Von Blitz escaping so much, Chase,” 
said his lordship earnestly, “as I do the unfortunate 
closing of what may have been our only way to leave 
the chateau in the end.” 

“You must think me an ungrateful fool,” said Chase 
bitterly. He had already stated his position clearly. 

“Not at all, old chap. Don’t get that into your head. 
I only meant that a hole in the ground is worth two war- 
ships that won’t come when we need ’em.” 

Chase looked up quickly. “You don’t believe that I 
can call the cruisers?” 

“Oh, come now, Chase, I’m not a demmed native, you 
know.” 


252 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


The other grinned amiably. “Well, you just wait, 
as the boy says.” 

Deppingham put his eyeglass in more firmly and 
stared at his companion, not knowing whether to take 
the remark as a jest or to begin to look for signs of 
mental collapse. Britt laughed shortly. 

“I guess we’ll have to,” said the stubby lawyer. 

After satisfying themselves that there was no possi- 
bility of the enemy ever being able to enter the chateau 
through the collapsed passage, the trio returned to the 
upper world. 

Involuntarily their gaze went out searchingly over the 
placid sea. The whole sky glared back at them, un- 
wrinkled, smokeless, cloudless. Chase turned to Dep- 
pingham, a word of encouragement on his lips. His 
lordship was looking intently toward the palm-shaded 
grotto at the base of the lower terrace. Britt moved 
uneasily and then glanced at his fellow-countryman, a 
queer expression in his eyes. A moment later Depping- 
ham was clearing his throat for the brisk comment on 
the beauty of the view from the rather unfrequented 
spot on which they stood. 

Robert Browne and Lady Agnes were seated on the 
edge of the fountain in Apollo’s Grotto, conversing 
earnestly, even eagerly, with Mr. Bowles, who stood be- 
fore them in an unmistakable attitude of indecision and 
perturbation. Deppingham’s first futile attempt to ap- 
pear unconcerned was followed by an oppressive silence, 
broken at last by the Englishman. He gave Chase a 
look which plainly revealed his uneasiness. 

“Ever since I’ve heard that Bowles has the power to 
marry people, Chase, I’ve been upset a bit,” he explained 
nervously. 

“You don’t mean to say, Lord Deppingham, that 
you’re afraid the heirs will follow the advice of that 


THE DISQUIETING END OE PONG 253 


rattle-headed Saunders,” said Chase, with a laugh. 
“Why, it wouldn’t hold in court for a second. Ask 
Britt.” 

Britt cleared his throat. “Not for half a second,” he 
said. “I’m only wondering if Bowles has authority to 
grant divorces.” 

“I daresay he has,” said Deppingham, tugging at his 
moustache. “He’s — he’s a magistrate.” 

“It (doesn’t follow,” said Chase, “that he has unlimited 
legal powers.” 

“But what are they ragging him about down there, 
Chase,” blurted out the unhappy Deppingham. 

“Come in and have a drink,” said Chase suddenly. 
Deppingham was shivering. “You’ve got a chill in that 
damp cellar. I can assure you positively, as representa- 
tive of the opposition, that the grandchildren of Skaggs 
and Wyckholme are not going to divorce or marry any- 
body while I’m here, Britt and Saunders and Bowles to 
the contrary. And Lady Deppingham is no fool. Come 
on and have something to warm the cockles. You’re just 
childish enough to have the croup to-night.” He said 
it with such fine humour that Deppingham could not 
take offence. 

“All right, old chap,” he said with a laugh. “I am 
chilled to the bone. I’ll join you in a few minutes.” 
To their surprise, he started off across the terrace in 
the direction of the consulting trio. Chase and Britt 
silently watched his progress. They saw him join the 
others, neither of whom seemed to be confused or upset 
by his appearance, and subsequently enter into the dis- 
cussion that had been going on. 

“Just the same, Chase,” said Britt, after a long silence, 
“he’s worried, and not about marriage or divorce, either. 
He’s jealous. I didn’t believe it was in him.” 

“See here, Britt, you’ve no right to stir him up with 


254 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


those confounded remarks about divorce. You know 
that it’s rot. Don’t do it.” 

“My dear Chase,” said Britt, waving his hand serenely, 
“we can’t always see what’s in the air, but, by the Eter- 
nal, we usually can feel it. ’Nough said. Give you my 
word, I can’t help laughing at the position you’re in at 
present. It doesn’t matter what you get onto in con- 
nection with* our side of the case, you’re where you can’t 
take advantage of it without getting killed by your 
own clients. Horrible paradox, eh?” 

When Deppingham rejoined them, he was pale and very 
nervous. His wife, who had been weeping, came up with 
him, while Browne went off toward the stables with the 
ex-banker. 

“What do you think has happened?” demanded his 
lordship, addressing the two men, who stood by, ir- 
resolutely. “Somebody’s trying to poison us!” 

“What!!” from both listeners. 

“I’ve said it all along. Now, we know! Lady Dep- 
pingham’s dog is dead — poisoned, gentlemen.” He was 
wiping the moisture from his brow. 

“I’m sorry, Lady Deppingham,” said Chase earnestly. 
“He was a nice dog. But I hardly think he could have 
eaten what was intended for any of us. If he was poi- 
soned, the poison was meant for him and for no one else. 
He bit one of the stable boys yesterday. It ” 

“That may all be very true, Chase,” protested his 
lordship, “but don’t you see, it goes to show that some 
one has a stock of poison on hand, and we may be the 
next to get it. He died half an hour after eating — 
after eating a biscuit that was intended for me! It’s — 
it’s demmed uncomfortable, to say the least.” 

“Mr. Bowles has been questioning the servants,” said 
Lady Agnes miserably. 

“Of course,” said Chase philosophically, “it’s much 


THE DISQUIETING END OF PONG 255 


better that Pong should have got it than Lord Depping- 
ham. By the way, who gave him the biscuit?” 

“Bromley. She tossed it to him and he — he caught it 
so cleverly. You know how cunning he was, Mr. Chase. 
I loved to see him catch ” 

“Then Bromley has saved your life, Deppingham,” 
said Chase. “I’m sure you need the brandy, after all 
this. Come along. Will you join us, Lady Depping- 
ham?” 

“No. I’m going to bed!” She started away, then 
stopped and looked at her husband, her eyes wide with 
sudden comprehension. “Oh, Deppy, I should have died ! 
I should have died!” 

“My dear!” 

“I couldn’t have lived if ” 

“But, my dear, I didn't eat it — and here we are ! God 
bless you!” He turned abruptly and walked off beside 
her, ignoring the two distressed Americans. As they 
passed through the French window, Deppingham put his 
arm about his wife’s waist. Chase turned to Britt. 

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Britt, but it isn’t 
so, whatever it is.” 

“Good Lord, man, I wasn’t thinking that!" 

A very significant fact now stared the occupants of 
the chateau in the face. There was not the slightest 
doubt in the minds of those conversant with the situa- 
tion that the poison had been intended for either Lord 
or Lady Deppingham. The drug had been subtly, 
skilfully placed in one of the sandwiches which came 
up to their rooms at eleven o’clock, the hour at which 
they invariably drank off a cup of bouillon. Lady 
Deppingham was not in her room when Bromley brought 
the tray. She was on the gallery with the Brownes. 
Bromley came to ask her if she desired to have the 
bouillon served to her there. Lady Agnes directed her 


256 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


to fetch the tray, first inviting Mrs. Browne to accept 
Lord Deppingham’s portion. Drusilla declined and 
Bromley tossed a sandwich to Pong, who was always 
lying in wait for such scraps as might come his way. 
Lady Agnes always ate macaroons — never touching 
the sandwiches. This fact, of course, it was argued, 
might not have been known to the would-be poisoner. 
Her ladyship, as usual, partook of the macaroons and 
felt no ill effects. It was, therefore, clear that the poison 
was intended for but one of them, as, on this occasion, a 
single sandwich came up from the buffet. No one but 
Deppingham believed that it was intended for him. 

In any event, Pong, the red cocker, was dead. He 
was in convulsions almost immediately after swallowing 
the morsel he had begged for, and in less than three 
minutes was out of his misery, proving conclusively 
that a dose of deadly proportions had been administered* 
It is no wonder that Deppingham shuddered as he looked 
upon the stiff little body in the upper hall. 

Drusilla Browne was jesting, no doubt, but it is doubt- 
ful if any one grasped the delicacy of her humour 
when she observed, in mock concern, addressing the 
assembled mourners, that she believed the heirs were try- 
ing to get rid of their incumbrances after the good old 
Borgia fashion, and that she would never again have 
the courage to eat a mouthful of food so long as she 
stood between her husband and a hymeneal fortune. 

“You know, my dear,” she concluded, turning to her 
husband, “that I might have had Lord Deppingham’s 
biscuit. His wife asked me to take it. Goodness, you’re 
a dreadful Borgia person, Agnes,” she went on, smiling 
brightly at her ladyship. Deppingham was fumbling 
nervously at his monocle. “I should think you would 
be nervous, Lord Deppingham.” 

The most rigid questioning elicited no information from 


THE DISQUIETING END OF PONG 257 


the servants. Baillo’s sudden, involuntary look of sus- 
picion, directed toward Lady Agnes and Robert Browne, 
did not escape the keen eye of Hollingsworth Chase. 

“Impossible !” he said, half aloud. He looked up and 
saw that the Princess was staring at him questioning^. 
He shook his head, without thinking. 

Despair settled upon the white people. They were con- 
fronted by a new and serious peril: poison! At no time 
could they feel safe. Chase took it upon himself to talk 
to the native servants, urging them to do nothing that 
might reflect suspicion upon them. He argued long and 
forcefully from the standpoint of a friend and coun- 
sellor. They listened stolidly and repeated their vows 
of fidelity and integrity. He was astute enough to take 
them into his confidence concerning the treachery of 
Jacob Von Blitz. It was only after most earnest 
pleading that he persuaded them not to slay the German’s 
wives as a temporary expedient. 

One of the stable boys volunteered to carry a note 
from Chase to Rasula, asking the opportunity to lay a 
question of grave importance before him. Chase sug- 
gested to Rasula that he should meet him that evening 
at the west gate, under a flag of truce. The tone of 
the letter was more or less peremptory. 

Rasula came, sullen but curious. At first he would not 
believe ; but Chase was firm in his denunciation of J acob 
von Blitz. Then he was pleased to accuse Chase of du- 
plicity and double-dealing, going so far as to charge the 
deposed American with plotting against Von Blitz to 
further his own ends in more ways than one. At last, 
however, when he was ready to give up in despair, Chase 
saw signs of conviction in the manner of the native 
leader. His own fairness, his courage, had appealed to 
Rasula from the start. He did not know it then, but the 
dark-skinned lawyer had always felt, despite his envy 


258 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


and resentment, a certain respect for his integrity and 
fearlessness. 

He finally agreed to follow the advice of the Ameri- 
can ; grudgingly, to be sure, but none the less determined. 

“You will find everything as I have stated it, Rasula,” 
said Chase. “Pm sorry you are against me, for I would 
be your friend. I’ve told you how to reach the secret 
cave. The chests are there. The passage is closed. 
You can trap him in the attempt to rob the bank. I 
could have taken him red-handed and given him over to 
Lord Deppingham. But you would never have known 
the truth. Now I ask you to judge for yourselves. 
Give him a fair trial, Rasula — as you would any man 
accused of crime — and be just. If you need a witness — 
an eye-witness — call on me. I will come and I will ap- 
pear against him. I’ve been honest with you. I am 
willing to trust you to be honest with me.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


DEPPINGHAM FALLS ILL 

That evening Lord Deppingham took to his bed with 
violent chills. He shivered and burned by turns and 
spent a most distressing night. Bobby Browne came in 
twice to see him before retiring. For some reason un- 
known to any one but himself, Deppingham refused to 
be treated by the young man, notwithstanding the fact 
that Browne laid claim to a physician’s certificate and 
professed to be especially successful in breaking up “the 
ague.” Lady Agnes entreated her liege lord to sub- 
mit to the doses, but Deppingham was resolute to irasci- 
bility. 

“A Dover’s powder, Deppy, or a few grains of quinine. 
Please be sensible. You’re just like a child.” 

“What’s in a Dover’s powder?” demanded the patient, 
who had never been ill in his life. 

“Ipecac and opium, sugar of milk or sulphate of 
potash. It’s an anodyne diaphoretic,” said Browne. 

“Opium, eh?” came sharply from the couch. “Good 
Lord, an overdose of it would — ” he checked the words 
abruptly and gave vent to a nervous fit of laughter. 

“Don’t be a fool, George,” commanded his wife. “No 
one is trying to poison you.” 

“Who’s saying that he’s going to poison me?” de- 
manded Deppingham shortly. “I’m objecting because I 
don’t like the idea of taking medicine from a man just 
out of college. Now judge for yourself, Browne: would 
you take chances of that sort, away off here where there 
isn’t a physician nearer than twelve hundred miles? 
Come now, be frank.” 

Bobby Browne leaned back and laughed heartily. “I 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


260 

daresay you’re right. I should be a bit nervous. But 
if we don’t practise on some one, how are we to acquire 
proficiency? It’s for the advancement of science. Lots 
of people have died in that service.” 

“By Jove, you’re cold-blooded about it!” He stared 
helplessly at his wife’s smiling face. “It’s no laughing 
matter, Agnes. I’m a very sick man.” 

“Then, why not take the powders?” 

“I’ve just given my wife a powder, old man. She’s 
got a nervous headache,” urged Browne tolerantly. 

“Your wife?” exclaimed Deppingham, sitting up. 
“The devil!” He looked hard at Browne for a moment. 
“Oh, I say, now, old chap, don’t you think it’s rather 
too much of a coincidence?” 

Browne arose quickly, a flash of resentment in his eyes. 
“See here, Deppingham ” 

“Don’t be annoyed, Bobby,” pleaded Lady Agnes. 
“He’s nervous. Don’t mind him.” 

“I’m not nervous. It’s the beastly chill.” 

“Just the same, Lady Agnes, I shall not give him a 
grain of anything if he persists in thinking I’m such a 
confounded villain as to ” 

“I apologise, Browne,” said Deppingham hastily. “I’m 
not afraid of your medicine. I’m only thinking of my 
wife. If I should happen to die, don’t you know, there 
would be people who might say that you could have 
cured me. See what I mean?” 

“You dear old goose,” cried his wife. 

“I fancy Selim or Baillo or even Bowles knows what 
a fellow doses himself with when he’s bowled over by one 
of these beastly island ailments. Oblige me, Agnes, and 
send for Bowles.” 

Bowles came bowing and scraping into the room a few 
minutes later. He immediately recommended an old- 
fashioned Dover’s powder and ventured the opinion that 


DEPPINGHAM FALLS ILL 


261 


a “good sweat” would soon put his lordship on his feet, 
“better than ever.” Deppingham kept Bowles beside 
him while Browne generously prepared and administered 
the medicine. 

Later in the night the Princess came to see how the 
patient was getting on. He was in a dripping perspira- 
tion. 

Genevra drew a chair up beside his couch and sat down. 
Lady Agnes was yawning sleepily over a book. 

“Do you know, I believe I’d feel better if I could have 
another chill,” he said. “I’m so beastly hot now that I 
can’t stand it. Aggie, why don’t you turn out on the 
balcony for a bit of fresh air? I’m a brute to have 
kept you moping in here all evening.” 

Lady Agnes sighed prettily and — stepped out into the 
murky night. There were signs of an approaching 
storm in the sq^try air. 

“I say, Genevra, what’s the news?” demanded his lord- 
ship. 

“The latest bulletin says that you are very much im- 
proved and that you expect to pass a comfortable night.” 

“ ’Gad I do feel better. I’m not so stuffy. Where is 
Chase?” 

Now, the Princess, it is most distressing to state, had 
wilfully avoided Mr. Chase since early that morning. 

“I’m sure I don’t know. I had dinner with Mrs. Browne 
in her room. I fancy he’s off attending to the guard* 
I haven’t seen him.” 

“Nice chap,” remarked Deppingham. “Isn’t that he 
now, speaking to Agnes out there?” 

Genevra looked up quickly. A man’s voice came in to 
them from the balcony, following Lady Deppingham’s 
soft laugh. 

“No,” she said, settling back calmly. “It’s Mr. 
Browne.” 


262 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Oh,” said Deppingham, a slight shadow coming into 
his eyes. “Nice chap, too,” he added a moment later. 

“I don’t like him,” said she, lowering her voice. Dep- 
pingham was silent. Neither spoke for a long time. 
The low voices came to them indistinctly from the out- 
side. 

“I’ve no doubt Agnes is as much to blame as he,” said 
his lordship at last. “She’s made a fool of more than 
one man, my dear. She rather likes it.” 

“He’s behaving like a brute. They’ve been married less 
than a year.” 

“I daresay I’d better call Aggie off,” he mused. 

“It’s too late.” 

“Too late? The deuce ” 

“I mean, too late to help Drusilla Browne. She’s had 
an ideal shattered.” 

“It really doesn’t amount to anything, Genevra,” he 
argued. “It will blow over in a fortnight. Aggie’s 
always doing this sort of thing, you know.” 

“I know, Deppy,” she said sharply. “But this man is 
different. He’s not a gentleman. Mr. Skaggs wasn’t 
a gentleman. Blood tells. He will boast of this flirta- 
tion until the end of his days.” 

“Aggie’s had dozens of men in love with her — really 
in love,” he protested feebly. “She’s not ” 

“They’ve come and gone and she’s still the same old 
Agnes and you’re the same old Deppy. I’m not think- 
ing of you or Aggie. It’s Drusilla Browne.” 

“I see. Thanks for the confidence you have in 
Aggie. I daresay I know how Drusilla feels. I’ve — 
I’ve had a bad turn or two, myself, lately, and — but, 
never mind.” He was silent for some time, evidently 
turning something over in his mind. “By the way, what 
does Chase say about it ?” he asked suddenly. 

She started and caught her breath. “Mr. Chase? He 


DEPPINGHAM FALLS ILL 263 

— he hasn’t said anything about it,” she responded 
lamely. “He’s — he’s not that sort.” 

“Ah,” reflected Deppingham, “he is a gentleman?” 

Genevra flushed. “Yes, I’m sure he is.” 

“I say, Genevra,” he said, looking straight into her 
rebellious eyes, “you’re in love with Chase. Why don’t 
you marry him?” 

“You — you are really delirious, Deppy,” she cried. 
“The fever has ” 

“He’s good enough for any one — even you,” went on 
his lordship coolly. 

“He may have a wife,” said she, collecting her wits 
with rare swiftness. “Who knows? Don’t be silly, 
Deppy.” 

“Rubbish ! Haven’t you stuffed Aggie and me full 
of the things you found out concerning him before he 
left Thorberg — and afterward? The letters from the 
Ambassador’s wife and the glowing things your St. 
Petersburg friends have to say of him, eh? He comes 
to us well recommended by no other than the Princess 
Genevra, a most discriminating person. Besides, he’d 
give his head to marry you — having already lost it.” 

“You are very amusing, Deppy, when you try to be 
clever. Is there a clause in that silly old will compel- 
ling me to marry any one ?” 

“Of course not, my dear Princess ; but I fancy you’ve 
got a will of your own. Where there’s a will, there’s a 
way. You’d marry him to-morrow if — if ” 

“If I were not amply prepared to contest my own will?” 
she supplied airily. 

“No. If your will was not wrapped in convention three 
centuries old. You won’t marry Chase because you are 
a princess. That’s the long and the short of it. It 
isn’t your fault, either. It’s born in you. I daresay 
it would be a mistake, after a fashion, too. You’d be 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


obliged to give up being a princess, and settle down as 
a wife. Chase wouldn’t let you forget that you were 
a wife. It would be hanging over you all the time. 
Besides, he’d be a husband. That’s something to beware 
of, too.” 

“Deppy, you are ranting frightfully,” she said con- 
solingly. “You should go to sleep.” 

“I’m awfully sorry for you, Genevra.” 

“Sorry for me? Dear me!” 

“You’re tremendously gone on him.” 

“Nonsense! Why, I couldn’t marry Mr. Chase,” she 
exclaimed, irritable at last. “Don’t put such things 
into my head — I mean, don’t get such things into that 
ridiculous old head of yours. Are you forgetting that 
I am to become Karl’s wife in June? You are babbling, 
Deppy ” 

“Well, let’s say no more about it,” he said, lying back 
resignedly. “It’s too bad, that’s all. Chase is a man. 
Karl isn’t. You loathe him. I don’t wonder that you 
turn pale and look frightened. Take my advice! Take 
Chase !” 

“Don’t!” she cried, a break in her voice. She arose 
and went swiftly toward the window. Then she stopped 
and turned upon him, her lips parted as if to give utter- 
ance to the thing that was stirring her heart so violently. 
The words would not come. She smiled plaintively and 
said instead: “Good-night! Get a good sleep.” 

“The same to you,” he called feverishly. 

“Deppy,” she said firmly, a red spot in each cheek, 
her voice tense and strained to a high pitch of sup- 
pressed decision, “I shall marry Karl Brabetz. That 
will be the end of your Mr. Chase.” 

“I hope so,” he said. “But I’m not so sure of it, if 
you continue to love him as you do now.” 

She went out with her cheeks burning and a frightened 


DEPPINGHAM FALLS ILL 


265 


stir in her heart. What right, what reason had he to 
say such things to her? Her thoughts raced back to 
Neenah’s airy prophecy. 

Bobby Browne and Agnes were approaching from the 
lower end of the balcony. She drew back into the shadow 
suddenly, afraid that they might discover in her flushed 
face the signs of that ugly blow to her pride and her 
self-respect. “I’m not so sure of it,” was whirling in 
her brain, repeating itself a hundred times over, stab- 
bing her each time in a new and even more tender spot. 
“If you continue to love him as you do now,” fought its 
way through the maze of horrid, disturbing thoughts. 
How could she face the charge : “I’m not so sure of it,” 
unless she killed the indictment “if you love him as you 
do now?” 

Lady Agnes and Browne passed by without seeing her 
and entered the window. She heard him say something 
to his companion, softly, tenderly — she knew not what it 
was. And Lady Agnes laughed — yes, nervously. Ah, 
but Agnes was playing ! She was not in love with this 
man. It was different. It was not what Neenah meant 
— nor Deppingham, honest friend that he was. 

Down below she heard voices. . She wondered — incon- 
sistently alert — whether he was one of the speakers. 
Thomas Saunders and Miss Pelham were coming in from 
the terrace. They were in love with each other! They 
could be in love with each other. There was no law, no 
convention that said them nay! They could marry — 
and still love! “If you continue to love him as you do 
now,” battered at the doors of her conscience. 

Silently she stole off to her own rooms; stealthily, as 
if afraid of something she could not see but felt creep- 
ing up on her with an evil grin. It was Shame ! 

Her maid came in and she prepared for bed. Left 
alone, she perched herself in the window seat to cool 


266 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

her heated face with the breezes that swept on ahead of 
the storm which was coming up from the sea. Her 
heart was hot; no breeze could cool it — nothing but the 
ice of decision could drive out the fever that possessed 
it. Now she was able to reason calmly with herself and 
her emotions. She could judge between them. Three 
sentences she had heard uttered that day crowded upon 
each other to be uppermost: not the weakest of which 
was one which had fallen from the lips of Hollingsworth 
Chase. 

“It is impossible — incredible !” she was saying to her- 
self. “I could not love him like that. I should hate 
him. God above me, am I not different from those women 
whom I have known and pitied and despised? Am « 
I not different from Guelma von Herrick? Am I not 
different from Prince Henri’s wife? Ah, and they loved, 
too! And is he not different from those other men — 
those weak, unmanly men, who came into the lives of 
those women? Ah, yes, yes! He is different.” 

She sat and stared out over the black sea, lighted fit- 
fully by the distant lightning. There, she pronounced 
sentence upon him — and herself. There was no place 
for him in her world. He should feel her disdaiil— 
he should suffer for his presumption. Presumption? In* 
what way had he offended? She put her hands to her 
eyes but her lips smiled — smiled with the memory of 
the kiss she had returned! 

“What a fool! What a fool I am,” she cried aloud, 
springing up resolutely. “I must forget. I told him 
couldn’t, but I — I can.” Half way across the room she 
stopped, her hands clenched fiercely. “If — if Karl were 
only such as he!” she moaned. 

She went to her dressing table and resolutely unlocked 
one of the drawers, as one would open a case in which ' 
the most precious of treasures was kept. A cautious, in- 



“‘No,’ she said to herself, ‘I told him I was keep- 
ing them for him’ ” 








































































































































DEPPINGHAM FALLS ILL 267 

voluntary glance over her shoulder, and then she ran 
her hand into the bottom of the drawer. 

“It was so silly of me,” she muttered. “I shall not 
keep them for him.” The drawer was partly filled with 
cigarettes. She took one from among the rest and placed 
its tip in her red lips, a reckless light in her eyes. A 
match was struck and then her hand seemed to be in the 
clutch of some invisible force. The light flickered and 
died in her fingers. A blush suffused her face, her 
eyes, her neck. Then with a guilty, shamed, tender 
smile she dropped the cigarette into the drawer. She 
turned the key. 

“No,” she said to herself, “I told him that I was keep- 
ing them for him.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE TRIAL OF VON BLITZ 

The next morning found the weather unsettled. There 
had been a fierce storm during the night and a nasty 
mist was blowing up from the sea. Deppingham kept to 
his room, although his cold was dissipated. For the 
first time in all those blistering, trying months, they felt 
a chill in the air; raw, wet, unexpected. 

Chase had been up nearly all of the night, fearful lest 
the islanders should seize the opportunity to scale the 
walls under cover of the tempest. All through the night 
he had been possessed of a spirit of wild bravado, a 
glorious exaltation: he was keeping watch over her, 
standing between her and peril, guarding her while she 
slept. He thought of that mass of Henner hair — he 
loved to think of her as a creation of the fanciful Hen- 
ner — he thought of her asleep and dreaming in blissful 
security while he, with all the loyalty of an imaginative 
boy, was standing guard just as he had pictured him- 
self in those heroic days when he substituted himself for 
the story-book knight who stood beneath the battlements 
and defied the covetous ogre. His thoughts, however, did 
not contemplate the Princess fair in a state of wretched 
insomnia, with himself as the disturbing element. 

He looked for her at breakfast time. They usually had 
their rolls and coffee together. When she did not ap- 
pear, he made more than one pretext to lengthen his 
own stay in the breakfast-room. “She’s trying to for- 
get yesterday,” he reflected. “What was it she said 
about always regreting? Oh, well, it’s the way of 
women. I’ll wait,” he concluded with the utmost con- 
fidence in the powers of patience. 


THE TRIAL OF VON BLITZ 269 

Selim came to him in the midst of his reflections, bear- 
ing a thick, rain-soaked envelope. 

“It was found, excellency, inside the southern gate, and 
it is meant for you,” said Selim. Chase gingerly slashed 
open the envelope with his fruit knife. He laughed 
ruefully as he read the simple but laborious message from 
Jacob von Blitz. 

“ Where are your warships all this time ? They are not 
coming to you ever . Good-bye. You got to die yet , 
too. Your friend , Jacob von Blitz. And my wives , too." 

Chase stuffed the blurred, sticky letter into his pocket 
and arose to stretch himself. 

“There’s something coming to you, Jacob,” he said, 
much to the wonder of Selim. “Selim, unless I miss my 
guess pretty badly, we’ll be having a message — not 
from Garcia — but from Rasula before long. You’ve 
never heard of Garcia? Well, come along. I’ll tell you 
something about him as we take our morning stroll. 
How are my cigarettes holding out?” 

“They run low, sahib. Neenah has given all of hers 
to me for you, excellency, and I have demanded those 
of the wives of Yon Blitz.” 

“Selim, you must not forget that you are a gentleman. 
That was most ungallant. But I suppose you got 
them ?” 

“No, sahib. They refused to give them up. 
They are saving them for Mr. Britt,” said Selim 
dejectedly. 

“Ah, the ficklety of women !” he sighed. “There’s a 
new word for you, Selim — ficklety. I like it better than 
fickleness, don’t you? Sounds like frailty, too. Was 
there any shooting after I went to bed?” His manner 
changed suddenly from the frivolous to the serious. 

“No, sahib.” 

“I don’t understand their game,” he mused, a per- 


270 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

plexed frown on his brow. “They’ve quit popping away 
at us.” 

It was far past midday when he heard from Rasula. 
The disagreeable weather may have been more or less 
responsible for the ruffling of Chase’s temper during 
those long, dreary hours of waiting. Be that as it may, 
he was sorely tried by the feeling of loneliness that 
attached itself to him. He had seen the Princess but 
once, and then she was walking briskly, wrapped in a 
rain coat, followed by her shivering dogs, and her two 
Rapp-Thorberg soldiers! Somehow she failed to see 
Chase as he sauntered hungrily, almost imploringly 
across the upper terrace, in plain view. Perhaps, after 
all, it was not the weather. 

Rasula’s messenger came to the gates and announced 
that he had a letter for Mr. Chase. He was admitted to 
the grounds and conducted to the sick chamber of “the 
commandant.” Hollingsworth Chase read the carefully 
worded, diplomatic letter from the native lawyer, his 
listeners paying the strictest attention. After the most 
courteous introductory, Rasula had this to say : 

“We have reason to suspect that you were right in your 
suspicions. The golden plate has been found this day 
in the cave below the chateau, just as you have said. 
This much of what you have charged against Jacob von 
Blitz seems to be borne out by the evidence secured. Last 
night there was an attempt to rob the vaults in the 
company’s bank. Again I followed your advice and 
laid a trap for the men engaged. They were slain in 
the struggle which followed. This fact is much to be 
deplored. Your command that these men be given 
a fair trial cannot be obeyed. They died fighting after 
we had driven them to the wall. I have to inform you, 
sir, that your charge against Jacob von Blitz does not 
hold good in the case of the bank robbery. Therefore, 


THE TRIAL OF VON BLITZ 


271 

I am impelled to believe that you may have unjustly ac- 
cused him of being implicated in the robbery of the 
treasure chests. He was not among the bank thieves. 
There were but three of them — the Boer foremen. 
Jacob von Blitz came up himself and joined us in the 
fight against the traitors. He was merciless in his anger 
against them. You have said that you will testify against 
him. Sir, I have taken it upon myself to place him under 
restraint, notwithstanding his actions against the Boers. 
He shall have a fair trial. If it is proved that he is 
guilty, he shall pay the penalty. We are just people. 

“Sir, we, the people of Japat, will take you at your 
word. We ask you to appear against the prisoner and 
give evidence in support of your charge. He shall be 
placed on trial to-morrow morning at ten o’clock. On 
my honour as a man and a Believer, I assure safety to 
you while you are among us on that occasion. You shall 
find that we are honourable — more honourable than the 
people you now serve so dearly. I, Rasula, will meet 
you at the gates and will conduct you back to them in 
safety. If you are a true man, you will not evade the 
call. I beg to assure you that your testimony against 
Jacob von Blitz shall be weighed carefully and without 
prejudice by those who are to act as his judges. My 
messenger will carry your reply to us. Rasula.” 

“Well, it looks as though Von Blitz has spiked your 
guns,” said Deppingham. “The dog turns against his 
confederates and saves his own skin by killing them.” 

“In any event,” said Browne, “you spoiled his little 
game. He loses the treasure and he didn’t get into the 
vaults. Rasula should take those points into considera- 
tion.” 

“He won’t forget them, rest assured. That’s why I’m 
sure that he’ll take my word at the trial as against that 
of Von Blitz,” said Chase. 


272 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“You — you don’t mean to say, Mr. Chase, that you 
are going into the town?” cried Lady Agnes, wide-eyed. 

“Certainly, Lady Deppingham. They are expecting 
me.” 

“Don’t be foolhardy, Chase. They will kill you like a 
rat,” exclaimed Deppingham. 

“Oh, no, they won’t,” said the other confidently. 
“They’ve given their promise through Rasula. What- 
ever else they may be, they hold a promise sacred. 
They know I’ll come. If I don’t, they’ll know that I 
am a coward. You wouldn’t have them think I am a 
coward, would you, Lady Deppingham?” he said, turn- 
ing to look into her distressed face with his most win- 
ning smile. 

The next morning he coolly set forth for the gates, 
scarcely thinking enough of the adventure to warrant 
the matter-of-fact “good-byes” that he bestowed upon 
those who were congregated to see him off. His heart 
was sore as he strode rapidly down the drive. Genevra 
had not come down to say farewell. 

“By heaven,” he muttered, strangely vexed with her, 
“I fancy she means it. She’s bent on showing me my 
place. But she might have come down and wished me 
good luck. That was little enough for her to do. Ah, 
well,” he sighed, putting it away from him. 

As he turned into the tree-lined avenue near the gate, 
a slender young woman in a green and white gown arose 
from a seat in the shade and stepped a pace forward, 
opening her parasol quite leisurely as he quickened his 
steps. His eyes gleamed with the sudden rush of joy 
that filled his whole being. She stood there, waiting 
for him, under the trees. There was an expression in 
her face that he had never seen there before. She was 
smiling, it is true, but there was something like defiance 
— yes, it was the set, strained smile of resolution that 


THE TRIAL OF VON BLITZ 


273 


greeted his eager exclamation. Her eyes gleamed 
brightly and she was breathing as one who has run 
swiftly. 

“You are determined to go down there among those 
men?” she demanded, the smile suddenly giving way to 
a look of disapproval. She ignored his hand. 

“Certainly,” he said, after the moment of bewilder- 
ment. “Why not ? I — I thought you had made up your 
mind to let me go without a — a word for good luck.” 
She found great difficulty in meeting the wistful look 
in his eyes. “You are good to come down here to say 
good-bye — and howdy do, for that matter. We’re al- 
most strangers again.” 

“I did not come down to say good-bye,” she said, her 
lips trembling ever so slightly. 

“I don’t understand,” he said. 

“I am going with you into the town — as a witness,” 
she said, and her face went pale at the thought of it. 
He drew back in amazement, staring at her as though 
he had not heard aright. 

“Genevra,” he cried, “you — you would do that?” 

“Why not, Mr. Chase?” She tried to speak calmly, 
but she was trembling. After all, she was a slender, 
helpless girl — not an Amazon ! “I saw and heard every- 
thing. They won’t believe you unsupported. They 
won’t harm me. They will treat me as they treat you. 
I have as much right to be heard against him as you. 
If I swear to them that what you say is true they ” 

Her hand was on his arm now, trembling, eager, yet 
charged with fear at the prospect ahead of her. 
He clasped the little hand in his and quickly lifted it to 
his lips. 

“I’m happy again,”' he cried. “It’s all right with me 
now.” She withdrew her hand on the instant. 

“No, no ! It isn’t that,” she said, her eyes narrowing. 


274 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Don’t misinterpret my coming here to say that I will 
go. It isn’t because — no, it isn’t that !” 

He hesitated an instant, looking deep into the bewildered 
eyes that met his with all the honesty that dwelt in her 
soul. He saw that she trusted him to be fair with her. 

“I was unhappy because you had forsaken me,” he 
said gently. “You are brave — you are wonderful ! Bur 
I can’t take you down there. I know what will happen 
if they find him guilty. Good-bye, dear one. I’ll come 
back — surely I’ll come back. Thank you for sending 
me away happy.” 

“Won’t you let me go with you?” she asked, after a 
long, penetrating look into his eyes. 

“I would not take you among them for all the world. 
You forget. Neither of us would come back.” 

“Neither of us?” she said slowly. 

“I wouldn’t come back without you,” he said quietly, 
earnestly. She understood. “Good-bye! Don’t worry 
about me. I am in no danger.” 

“Good-bye,” she said, the princess once more. “I 
shall pray for you — with all my soul.” She gave him 
her hand. It was cold and lifeless. He pressed it warmly 
and went quickly away, leaving her standing there in 
the still shade of the satinwoods, lpoking after him with 
eyes that grew wider and wider with the tears that welled 
up from behind. 

Hours went by — slow, tortuous hours in which the souls 
of those who watched and waited for his return were 
tried to the utmost. A restless, uncanny feeling pre- 
vailed : as if they were prisoners waiting in dead silence 
for the sickening news that the trap on the scaffold had 
been dropped with all that was living of a fellow-cell- 
mate, whom they had known and pitied for weeks. 

Once there came to the ears of the watchers on the 
mountainside the sound of distant shouts, later, the 


THE TRIAL OF VON BLITZ 


275 


brief rattle of firearms. The blood of every one turned 
cold with apprehension ; every voice was stilled, every 
eye wide with dread. Neenah screamed as she fled 
across the terrace toward the drawbridge, where Selim 
stood as motionless as a statue. 

Luncheon-time passed, and again, as if drawn by a 
magnet, the entire household made its way to the front 
of the chateau. 

At last Selim uttered a shout of joy. He forgot the 
deference due his betters and unceremoniously dashed off 
toward the gates, followed by Neenah, who seemed pos- 
sessed of wings. 

Chase was returning! 

They saw him coming up the drive, his hat in his 
hand, his white umbrella raised above his head. He 
drew nearer, sauntering as carelessly as if nothing un- 
usual lay behind him in the morning hours. The eager, 
joyous watchers saw him greet Selim and his fluttering 
wife; they saw Selim fall upon his knees, and they felt 
the tears rushing to their own eyes. 

“Hurray !” shouted little Mr. Saunders in his excite- 
ment. Bowles and the three clerks joined him in the 
exhibition. Then the Persians and the Turks and the 
Arabs began to chatter; the servants, always cold and 
morose, revealed signs of unusual emotion; the white 
people laughed as if suddenly delivered from extreme 
pain. The Princess was conscious of the fact that at 
least five or six pairs of eyes were watching her face. 
She closed her lips and compelled her eyelids to obey 
the dictates of a resentful heart: she lowered them until 
they gave one the impression of indolent curiosity, even 
indifference. All the while, her incomprehensible heart 
was thumping with a rapture that knew no allegiance 
to royal conventions. 

A few minutes later he was among them, listening with 


276 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


his cool, half-satirical smile to their protestations of joy 
and relief, assailed by more questions than he could well 
answer in a day, his every expression a protest against 
their contention that he had done a brave and wonderful 
thing. 

“Nonsense,” he said in his most deprecating voice, tak- 
ing a seat beside the Princess on the railing and fanning 
himself lazily with his hat to the mortification of his 
body-servant, who waved a huge palm leaf in vigorous 
adulation. “It was nothing. Just being a witness, 
that’s all. You’ll find how easy it is when you get back 
to London and have to testify in the Skaggs will con- 
test. Tell the truth, that’s all.” The Princess was now 
looking at his brown face with eyes over which she had 
lost control. “Oh, by the by,” he said, as if struck by a 
sudden thought. He turned toward the shady court be- 
low, where the eager refugees from Aratat were congre- 
gated. A deep, almost sepulchral tone came into his 
voice as he addressed himself to the veiled wives of Jacob 
von Blitz. “It is my painful duty to announce to the 
Mesdames von Blitz that they are widows.” 

There was a dead silence. The three women stared up 
at him, uncomprehending. 

“Yes,” he went on solemnly, “Jacob is no more. He 
was found guilty by his judges and executed with com- 
mendable haste and precision. I will say this for your 
lamented husband: he met his fate like a man and a 
German — without a quiver. He took his medicine 
bravely — twelve leaden pills administered by as many 
skilful surgeons. It is perhaps just as well for you that 
you are widows. If he had lived long enough he would 
have made a widower of himself.” The three wives of 
Von Blitz hugged themselves and cried out in their joy! 
“But it is yet too early to congratulate yourselves on 
your freedom. Rasula has promised to kill all of us, 


THE TRIAL OF VON BLITZ 


m 


whether we deserve it or not, so I daresay we’d better 
postpone the celebration until we’re entirely out of the 
woods.” 

“They shot him?” demanded Deppingham, when he had 
finished. 

“Admirably. By Jove, those fellows can shoot! They 
accepted my word against his — which is most gratify- 
ing to my pride. One other man testified against him — 
a chap who saw him with the Boers not ten minutes be- 
fore the attempt was made to rob the vaults. Rasula 
appeared as counsel for the defence. Merely a matter 
of form. He knew that he was guilty. There was no 
talk of a new trial; no appeal to the supreme court, 
Britt ; no expense to the community.” 

He was as unconcerned about it as if discussing the 
most trivial happening of the day. Five ancient men 
had sat with the venerable Cadi as judges in the market- 
place. There were no frills, no disputes, no summing up 
of the case by state or defendant. The judges weighed 
the evidence; they used their own judgment as to the 
law and the penalty. They found him guilty. Von 
Blitz lived not ten minutes after sentence was passed. 

“As to their intentions toward us,” said Chase, “they 
are firm in their determination that no one shall leave 
the chateau alive. Rasula was quite frank with me. 
He is a cool devil. He calmly notified me that we will 
all be dead inside of two weeks. No ships will put in 
here so long as the plague exists. It has been cleverly 
managed. I asked him how we were to die and he smiled 
as though he was holding something back as a surprise 
for us. He came as near to laughing as I’ve ever seen 
him when I asked him if he’d forgotten my warships. 
‘Why don’t you have them here?’ he asked. ‘We’re not 
ready,’ said I. ‘The six months are not up for nine 
days yet.’ ‘No one will come ashore for you,’ he said 


278 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


pointedly. I told him that he was making a great mis- 
take in the attitude he was taking toward the heirs, 'but 
he coolly informed me that it was best to eradicate all 
danger of the plague by destroying the germs, so to 
speak. He agreed with me that you have no chance in 
the courts, but maintains that you’ll keep up the fight 
as long as you live, so you might just as well die to suit 
his convenience. I also made the interesting discovery 
that suits have already been brought in England to break 
the will on the grounds of insanity.” 

“But what good will that do us if we are to die here ?” 
exclaimed Bobby Browne. 

“None whatsoever,” said Chase calmly. “You must 
admit, however, that you exhibited signs of hereditary 
insanity by coming here in the first place. I’m begin- 
ning to believe that there’s a streak of it in my family, 
too.” 

“And you — you saw him killed?” asked the Princess in 
an awed voice, low and full of horror. 

“Yes. I could not avoid it.” 

“They killed him on your — on your — ” she could not 
complete the sentence, but shuddered expressively. 

“Yes. He deserved death, Princess. I am more or 
less like the Moslem in one respect. I might excuse a 
thief or a murderer, but I have no pity for a traitor.” 

“You saw him killed,” she said in the same awed voice, 
involuntarily drawing away from him. 

“Yes,” he said, “and you would have seen him killed, 
too, if you had gone down with me to appear against 
him.” 

She looked up quickly and then thanked him, almost 
in a whisper. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


CENTURIES TO FORGET 

“My lord,” said Saunders the next day, appearing be- 
fore his lordship after an agitated hour of preparation, 
“it’s come to a point where something’s got to be done.” 
He got that far and then turned quite purple ; his collar 
seemed to be choking him. 

“Quite right, Saunders,” said Deppingham, replacing 
his eyeglass nervously, “but who’s going to do it and 
what is there to be done?” 

“I’m — er — afraid you don’t quite understand, sir,” 
mumbled the little solicitor, glancing uneasily over his 
shoulder. “If what Mr. Chase says is true, we’ve got a 
precious short time to live. Well, we’ve — we’ve con- 
cluded to get all we can out of the time that’s left, my 
lord.” 

“I see,” said the other, but he did not see. 

“So I’ve come to ask if it will be all right with you 
and her ladyship, sir. We don’t want to do anything 
that would seem forward and out of place, sir.” 

“It’s very considerate of you, Saunders; but what the 
devil are you talking about?” 

“Haven’t you heard, sir?” 

“That we are to die? Certainly.” 

“That’s not all, sir. Miss — Miss Pelham and I have 
decided to get — er — get married before it is too late.” 

Deppingham stared hard for a moment and then 
grinned broadly. 

“You mean, before you die?” 

“That’s it exactly, my lord. Haw, haw ! It would 
be a bit late, wouldn’t it, if we waited till afterward? 
Haw, haw! Splendid! But seriously, my lord, we’ve 


280 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


talked it all over and it strikes us both as a very clevei 
thing to do. We had intended to wait till we got to Lon- 
don, but that seems quite out of the question now. Un- 
less we do it up pretty sharp, sir, we are likely to miss 
it altogether. So I have come to ask if you think 
it will interfere with your arrangements if — if we should 
be married to-night.” 

“I’m sure, Saunders, that it won’t discommode me in 
the least,” said his lordship genially. “By all means, 
Saunders, let it be to-night, for to-morrow we may die.” 
“Will you kindly speak to her ladyship, sir?” 

“Gladly. And I’ll take it as an honour if you will per- 
mit me to give away the bride.” 

“Thank you, my lord,” cried Saunders, his face beam- 
ing. His lordship shook hands with him, whereupon 
his cup of happiness overflowed, notwithstanding the 
fact that his honeymoon was likely to be of scarcely any 
duration whatsoever. “I’ve already engaged Mr. 
Bowles, sir, for half past eight, and also the banquet 
hall, sir,” he said, with his frank assurance. 

“And I’ll be happy, Saunders, to see to the wedding 
supper and the rice,” said his lordship. “Have you de- 
cided where you will go on your wedding journey?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Saunders seriously, “God helping us, 
we’ll go to England.” 

The wedding took place that night in the little chapel. 
It was not an imposing celebration; neither was it at- 
tended by the gladsome revelry that usually marks the 
nuptial event, no matter how humble. The very fact 
that these two were being urged to matrimony by the 
uncertainties of life was sufficient to cast a spell of gloom 
over the guests and high contracting parties alike. The 
optimism of Hollingsworth Chase lightened the shadows 
but little. 

Chase deliberately took possession of the Princess after 


CENTURIES TO FORGET 


281 


the hollow wedding supper had come to an end. He 
purposely avoided the hanging garden and kept to the 
vine-covered balcony overlooking the sea. Her mood 
had changed. Now she was quite at ease with him; the 
taunting gleam in her dark eyes presaged evil moments 
for his peace of mind. 

“I’m inspired,” he said to her. “A wedding always 
inspires me.” 

“It’s very strange that you’ve never married,” she 
retorted. She was striding freely by his side, confident 
in her power to resist sentiment with mockery. 

“Will you be my wife?” he asked abruptly. She 
caught her breath before laughing tolerantly, and then 
looked into his eyes with a tantalising ingenuousness. 

“By no means,” she responded. “I am not oppressed 
by the same views that actuated Miss Pelham. You see, 
Mr. Chase, I am quite confident that we are not to die in 
two weeks.” 

“I could almost wish that we could die in that time,” 
he said. 

“How very diabolical!” 

“It may seem odd to you, but I’d rather see you dead 
than married to Prince Karl.” She was silent. He went 
on: “Would you consent to be my wife if you felt in 
your heart that we should never leave this island?” 
“You are talking nonsense,” she said lightly. 

“Perhaps. But would you?” he insisted. 

“I think I shall go in, Mr. Chase,” she said with a 
warning shake of her head. 

“Don’t, please ! I’m not asking you to marry me if we 
should leave the island. You must give me credit for 
that,” he argued whimsically. 

“Ah, I see,” she said, apparently very much relieved. 
“You want me only with the understanding that death 
should be quite close at hand to relieve you. And if I 


282 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


were to become your wife, here and now, and we should 
be taken from this dreadful place — what then?” 

“You probably would have to go through a long and 
miserable career as plain Goodwife Chase,” he explained. 

“If it will make you any happier,” she said, with a 
smile in which there lurked a touch of mischievous 
triumph, “I can say that I might consent to marry you 
if I were not so positive that I will leave the island 
soon. You seem to forget that my uncle’s yacht is to 
call here, even though your cruisers will not.” 

“I’ll risk even that,” he maintained stoutly. 

She stopped suddenly, her hand upon his arm. 

“Do you really love me?” she demanded earnestly. 

“With all my soul, I swear to you,” he replied, stag- 
gered by the abrupt change in her manner. 

“Then don’t make it any harder for me,” she said. 
“You know that I could not do what you ask. Please, 
please be fair with me. I — I can’t even jest about it. 
It is too much to ask of me,” she went on with a strange 
firmness in her voice. “It would require centuries to 
make me forget that I am a princess, just as centuries 
were taken up in creating me what I am. I am no bet- 
ter than you, dear, but — but — you understand?” She 
said it so pleadingly, so hopelessly that he understood 
what it was that she could not say to him. “We seldom 
if ever marry the men whom God has made for us to 
love.” 

He lifted her hands to his breast and held them there. 
“If you will just go on loving me, I’ll some day make 
you forget you’re a princess.” She smiled and shook 
her head. Her hair gleamed red and bronze in the 
kindly light; a soft perfume came up to his nostrils. 
* * * * * 

The next day three of the native servants became vio- 
lently ill, seized by the most appalling convulsions. At 


CENTURIES TO FORGET 


283 


first, a thrill of horror ran through the chateau. The 
plague! The plague in reality! Faces blanched white 
with dread, hearts turned cold and sank like lead; a 
hundred eyes looked out to sea with the last gleam of 
hope in their depths. 

But these fears were quickly dissipated. Baillo and the 
other natives unhesitatingly announced that the men were 
not afflicted with the “fatal sickness.” As if to bear 
out these positive assertions, the sufferers soon began to 
mend. By nightfall they were fairly well recovered. 
The mysterious seizure, however, was unexplained. 
Chase alone divined the cause. He brooded darkly over 
the prospect that suddenly had presented itself to his 
comprehension. Poison ! He was sure of it ! But who 
the poisoner? 

All previous perils and all that the future seemed to 
promise were forgotten in the startling discovery that 
came with the fall of night. The first disclosures were 
succeeded by a frantic but ineffectual search throughout 
the grounds ; the chateau was ransacked from top to 
bottom. 

Lady Deppingham and Robert Browne were missing! 
They had disappeared as if swallowed by the earth it- 
self ! 

Neenah, the wife of Selim, was the last of those in 
the chateau to see the heirs. When the sun was low in 
the west, she observed them strolling leisurely along 
the outer edge of the moat. They crossed the swift 
torrent by the narrow bridge at the base of the cliff 
and stopped below the mouth of the cavern which blew 
its cool breath out upon the hanging garden. Later on, 
she saw them climb the staunch ladder and stand in the 
black opening, apparently enjoying the cooling wind 
that came from the damp bowels of the mountain. Her 
attention was called elsewhere, and that was the last 


284 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


glimpse she had of the two people about whom centred 
the struggle for untold riches. 

It was not an unusual thing for the inhabitants of the 
chateau to climb to the mouth of the cavern. The men 
had penetrated its depths for several hundred yards, 
lighting their way by means of electric torches, but no 
one among them had undertaken the needless task of 
exploring it to the end. This much they knew: the 
cavern stretched to endless distances, wide in spots, nar- 
row in others, treacherous yet attractive in its ugly, 
grave-like solitudes. 

“God, Chase, they are lost in there!” groaned Dep- 
pingham, numb with apprehension. He was trembling 
like a leaf. 

“There’s just one thing to do,” said Chase, “we’ve got 
to explore that cavern to the end. They may have lost 
their bearings and strayed off into one of the lateral 
passages.” 

“I — I can’t bear the thought of her wandering about in 
that horrible place,” Deppingham cried as he started 
resolutely toward the ladders. 

“She’ll come out of it all right,” said Chase, a sudden 
compassion in his eyes. 

Drusilla Browne was standing near by, cold and 
silent with dread, a set expression in her eyes. Her lips 
moved slowly and Deppingham heard the bitter words: 

“You will find them, Lord Deppingham. You will find 
them !” 

He stopped and passed his hand over his eyes. Then, 
without a word, he snatched a rifle from the hands of one 
of the patrol, and led the way up the ladder. As he 
paused at the top to await the approach of his com- 
panions, Chase turned to the white-faced Princess and 
said, between his teeth : 

“If Skaggs and Wyckholme had been in the employ of 


CENTURIES TO FORGET 


285 


the devil himself they could not have foreseen the result 
of their infernal plotting. I am afraid — mortally 
afraid !” 

“Take care of him, Hollingsworth,” she whispered 
shuddering. 

The last glow of sunset, reflected in the western sky, 
fell upon the tall figure of the Englishman in the mouth 
of the cavern. Tragedy seemed to be waiting to cast 
its mantel about him from behind. 

“Good-bye, Genevra, my Princess,” said Chase softly, 
and then was off with Britt and Selim. As he passed 
Drusilla, he seized her hand and paused long enough to 
say: 

“It’s all right, little woman, take my word for it. If 
I were you, I’d cry. You’ll see things differently 
through your tears.” 

The four men, with their lights, vanished from sight 
a few moments later. Chase grasped Deppingham’s 
arm and held him back, gravely suggesting that Selim 
should lead the way. 

They were to learn the truth almost before they had 
fairly begun their investigations. 

The heirs already were in the hands of their enemies, 
the islanders! 

The appalling truth burst upon them with a sudden- 
ness that stunned their sensibilities for many minutes. 
All doubt was swept away by the revelation. 

The eager searchers, shouting as they went, had picked 
their way down the steps in the sloping floor of the 
cavern, down through the winding galleries and clammy 
grottoes, their voices booming ever and anon against 
the silent walls with the roar of foghorns. Now they 
had come to what was known as “the Cathedral.” This 
was a wide, lofty chamber, hung with dripping stalac- 
tites, far below the level at which they began the descent. 


286 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


The floor was almost as flat and even as that of a modern 
dwelling. Here the cavern branched off in three or four 
directions, like the tentacles of a monster devilfish, the 
narrow passages leading no one knew whither in that 
tomb-like mountain. 

Selim uttered the first shout of surprise and consterna- 
tion. Then the four of them rushed forward, their eyes 
almost starting from their sockets. An instant later 
they were standing at the edge of a vast hole in the 
floor — newly made and pregnant with disaster. 

A current of air swept up into their faces. The soft, 
loose earth about the rent in the floor was covered with 
the prints of naked feet; the bottom of the hole was 
packed down in places by a multitude of tracks. Chase’s 
bewildered eyes were the first to discover the presence of 
loose, scattered masonry in the pile below and the truth 
dawned upon him sharply. He gave a loud exclamation 
and then dropped lightly into the shallow hole. 

“I’ve got it!” he shouted, stooping to peer intently 
ahead. “Yon Blitz’s powder kegs did all this. The 
secret passage runs along here. One of the discharges 
blew this hole through the roof of the passage. Here 
are the walls of the passage. By heaven, the way is 
open to the sea!” 

“My God, Chase!” cried Deppingham, staggering 
toward the opening. “These footprints are — God! 
They’ve murdered her ! They’ve come in here and sur- 
prised ” 

“Go easy, old man ! We need to be cool now. It’s all 
as plain as day to me. Rasula and his men were explor- 
ing the passage after the discovery of the treasure 
chests. They came upon this new-made hole and then 
crawled into the cavern. They surprised Browne and — 
Yes, here are the prints of a woman’s shoe — and a man’s, 
too. They’re gone, God help ’em!” 


CENTURIES TO FORGET 


287 


He climbed out of the hole and rushed about “the 
Cathedral” in search of further evidence. Deppingham 
dropped suddenly to his knees and buried his face in his 
hands, sobbing like a child. 

It was all made plain to the searchers. Signs of a 
fierce struggle were found near the entrance to the 
Cathedral. Bobby Browne had made a gallant fight. 
Blood stains marked the smooth floor and walls, and 
there was evidence that a body had been dragged across 
the chamber. 

Britt put his hand over his eyes and shuddered. 
“They’ve settled this contest, Chase, forever!” he 
groaned. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE PURSUIT 

Deppingham sprang to his feet with a fierce oath on his 
lips. His usually lustreless eyes were gleaming with 
something more than despair; there was the wild light 
of unmistakable relief in them. It was as if a horrid 
doubt had been scaled from the soul of Lady Depping- 
ham’s husband. 

“We must follow!” shouted his lordship, preparing to 
lower himself into the jagged opening. 44 We may be in 
time !” 

<4 Stop, Deppingham !” cried Chase, leaping to his side. 
“Don’t rush blindly into a trap like that. Let’s consider 
for a moment.” 

They had it back and forth for many minutes, the 
united efforts of the three men being required to keep 
the half-frantic Englishman from rushing alone into 
the passage. Reason at last prevailed. 

“They’ve got an hour or more start of us,” argued 
Chase. “Nothing will be accomplished by rushing into 
an ambush. They’d kill us like rats. Rasula is a 
sagacious scoundrel. He’ll not take the entire responsi- 
bility. There will be a council of all the head men. 
It will be of no advantage to them to kill the heirs unless 
they are sure that we won’t live to tell the tale. They 
will go slow, now that they have the chief obstacles to 
victory in their hands.” 

“If they will give her up to me, I will guarantee that 
Lady Agnes shall relinquish all claim to the estate,” an- 
nounced the harassed husband. 

“They won’t do that, old man. Promises won’t tempt 
them,” protested Chase. “We’ve got to do what we can 


THE PURSUIT 


289 


to rescue them. I’m with you, gentlemen, in the under- 
taking, first for humanity’s sake; secondly, because I 
am your friend; lastly, because I don’t want my clients 
to lose all chance of winning out in this controversy by 
acting like confounded asses. It isn’t what Sir John 
expects of me. Now, let’s consider the situation 
sensibly.” 

In the meantime, the anxious coterie in the chateau were 
waiting eagerly for the return of the searchers. Night 
had fallen swiftly. The Princess and Drusilla were 
walking restlessly back and forth, singularly quiet and 
constrained. The latter sighed now and then in a man- 
ner that went directly to the heart of her companion. 
Genevra recognised the futility of imposing her sym- 
pathies in the face of this significant reserve. 

Drusilla made one remark, half unconsciously, no 
doubt, that rasped in the ears of the Princess for days. 
It was the cold, bitter, resigned epitome of the young 
wife’s thoughts. 

“Robert has loved her for months.” That was all. 

Mr. and Mrs. Saunders, thankful that something had 
happened to divert attention from their own conspicu- 
ous plight, were discoursing freely in the centre of a 
group composed of the four Englishmen from the bank, 
all of whom had deserted their posts of duty to hear the 
details of the amazing disappearance. 

“It’s a plain out and out elopement,” said Mrs. Saun- 
ders, fanning herself vigorously. 

“But, my dear,” expostulated her husband, blushing 
vividly over the first public use of the appellation, 
“where the devil could they elope to?” 

“I don’t know, Tommy, but elopers never take that into 
consideration. Do they, Mr. Bowles?” 

Mr. Bowles readjusted the little red forage cap and 
said he’d be hanged if he knew the eloping symptoms. 


290 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


At last the four men appeared in the mouth of the 
cavern. The watchers below fell into chilled silence 
when they discovered that the missing ones were not 
with them. Stupefied with apprehension, they watched 
the men descend the ladder and cross the bridge. 

“They are dead !” fell from Drusilla Browne’s lips. She 
swayed for an instant and then sank to the ground, un- 
conscious. 

* * * # * 

In the conference which followed the return of the 
searchers, it was settled that three of the original party 
should undertake the further prosecution of the hunt 
for the two heirs. Lord Deppingham found ready volun- 
teers in Chase and the faithful Selim. They prepared to 
go out in the hills before the night was an hour older. 
Selim argued that the abductors would not take their 
prisoners to the town of Aratat. He understood them 
well enough to know that they fully appreciated the 
danger of an uprising among those who were known 
to be openly opposed to the high-handed operations of 
Rasula and his constituency. He convinced Chase that 
the wily Rasula would carry his captives to the mines, 
where he was in full power. 

“You’re right, Selim. If he’s tried that game we’ll 
beat him at it. Ten to one, if he hasn’t already chucked 
them into the sea, they’re now confined in one of the 
mills over there.” 

They were ready to start in a very short time. Selim 
carried a quantity of food and a small supply of brandy. 
Each was heavily armed and prepared for a stiff battle 
with the abductors. They were to go by way of the 
upper gate, taking chances on leaving the park without 
discovery by the sentinels. 

“We seem constantly to be saying good-bye to each 
other.” Thus spoke the Princess to Chase as he stood 


THE PURSUIT 


291 


at the top of the steps waiting for Selim. The dark- 
ness hid the wan, despairing smile that gave the lie to 
her sprightly words. 

“And I’m always doing the unexpected thing — com- 
ing back. This time I may vary the monotony by fail- 
ing to return.” 

“I should think you could vary it more pleasantly by 
not going away,” she said. “You will be careful?” 

“The danger is here, not out there,” he said meaningly. 

“You mean — me? But, like all danger, I soon shall 
pass. In a few days, I shall say good-bye forever and 
sail away.” 

“How much better it would be for you if this were the 
last good-bye — and I should not come back.” 

“For me?” 

“Yes. You could marry the Prince without having me 
on your conscience forevermore.” 

“Mr. Chase!” 

“It’s easier to forget the dead than the living, they 
say.” 

“Don’t be too sure of that.” 

“Ah, there’s Selim! Good-bye! We’ll have good news 
for you all, I hope, before long. Keep your eyes on 
Neenah. She and Selim have arranged a set of signals. 
Don’t lie awake all night — and don’t pray for me,” he 
scoffed, in reckless mood. 

The three men stole out through the small gate in 
the upper end of the park. Selim at once took the lead. 
They crept off into the black forest, keeping clear of 
the mountain path until they were far from the walls. 
It was hard going among the thickly grown, low-hang- 
ing trees. They were without lights; the jungle was 
wrapped in the blackness of night ; the trail was un- 
made and arduous. For more than a mile they crept 
through the unbroken vegetation of the tropics, finally 


292 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


making their way down to the beaten path which led 
past the ruins of the bungalow and up to the mountain 
road that provided a short cut around the volcano to 
the highlands overlooking the mines district in the 
cradle-like valley beyond. 

Deppingham had not spoken since they left the park 
grounds. He came second in the single file that they 
observed, striding silently and obediently at the given 
twenty paces behind Selim. They kept to the grassy 
roadside and moved swiftly and with as little noise as 
possible. By this time, their eyes had grown accus- 
tomed to the darkness ; they could distinguish one an- 
other quite clearly. The starlight filtered down through 
the leafy canopy above the road, increasing rather than 
decreasing the density of the shadows through which 
they sped. None but strong, determined, inspired men 
could have followed the pace set by the lithe, surefooted 
Selim. 

Mile after mile fell behind them, with no relaxation of 
energy or purpose. Chase found time and opportunity 
to give his thoughts over to Genevra. A mighty longing 
to clasp her in his arms and carry her to the ends of the 
earth took possession of him: a longing to drag her 
far from the conventions which bound her to a world 
he could not enter into. Down in his heart, he knew that 
she loved him: it was not a play-day folly with her. 
And yet he knew that the end would be as she had said. 
She would be the wife of the man she did not love. Fate 
had given her to him when the world was young ; there 
was no escape. In story-books, perhaps, but not in real 
life. And how he had come to love her! 

They were coming to the ridge road and Selim fell 
back to explain the need’ for caution. The ridge road 
crept along the brow of the deep canyon that ran down 
to the sea. This was the road, in all likelihood, he ex- 


THE PURSUIT 


293 


plained, that the abductors would have used in their 
flight from the cavern. Two miles farther south it 
joined the wide highway that ran from Aratat to the 
mines. 

Selim crept on ahead to reconnoitre. He was back in 
ten minutes with the information that a party of men 
had but lately passed along the road toward the south. 
Their footprints in the soft, untraveled road were fresh. 
The stub of a cigarette that had scarcely burned itself 
out proved to him conclusively that the smoker, at least, 
was not far ahead of them. 

They broke away from the road and took a less ex- 
posed course through the forest to their right, keeping 
well within earshot of the ridge, but moving so care- 
fully that there was slight danger of alarming the party 
ahead. The fact that the abductors — there seemed to 
be no doubt as to identity — had spent several hours 
longer than necessary in traversing the distance between 
the cave and the point just passed, proving rather con- 
clusively that they were encumbered by living, not dead, 
burdens. 

At last the sound of voices came to the ears of the 
pursuers. As they crept closer and closer, they became 
aware of the fact that the party had halted and were 
wrangling among themselves over some point in dis- 
pute. With Selim in the lead, crawling like panthers 
through the dense undergrowth, the trio came to the 
edge of the timber land. Before them lay the dark, 
treeless valley ; almost directly belpw them, not fifty 
yards away, clustered the group of disputing islanders, 
a dozen men in all, with half as many flaring 
torches. 

They had halted in the roadway at the point where a 
sharp defile through the rocks opened a way down into 
the valley. Like snakes the pursuers wriggled their 


294 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


way to a point just above the small basin in which the 
party was congregated. 

A great throb of exultation leaped up from their hearts. 
In plain view, at the side of the road, were the two per- 
sons for whom they were searching. 

“God, luck is with us,” whispered Chase unconsciously. 

Lady Agnes, dishevelled, her dress half stripped from 
her person, was seated upon a great boulder, staring 
hopelessly, lifelessly at the crowd of men in the roadway. 
Beside her stood a tall islander, watching her and at the 
same time listening eagerly to the dispute that went on 
between his fellows. She was not bound ; her hands and 
feet and lips were free. The glow from the torches 
held by gesticulating hands fell upon her tired, fright- 
ened face. Deppingham groaned aloud as he looked 
down upon the wretched, hopeless woman that he loved 
and had come out to die for. 

Bobby Browne was standing near by. His hands were 
tightly bound behind his back. His face was blood- 
covered and the upper part of his body was almost 
bare, evidence of the struggle he had made against over- 
whelming odds. He was staring at the ground, his head 
and shoulders drooping in utter dejection. 

The cause of the slow progress made by the attacking 
party was also apparent after a moment’s survey of the 
situation. Three of the treasure chests were standing 
beside the road, affording seats for as many weary car- 
riers. It was all quite plain to Chase. Rasula and his 
men had chanced upon the two white people during one 
of their trips to the cave for the purpose of removing 
the chests. Moreover, it was reasonable to assume that 
this lot of chests represented the last of those stored 
away by Von Blitz. The others had been borne away 
by detachments of men who left the cave before the dis- 
covery and capture of the heirs. 


THE PURSUIT 295 

Rasula was haranguing the crowd of men in the road. 
The hidden listeners could hear and understand every 
word he uttered. 

“It is the only way,” he was shouting angrily. “We 
cannot take them into the town to-night — maybe not 
for two or three days. Some there are in Aratat who 
would end their lives before sunrise. I say to you that we 
cannot put them to death until we are sure that the others 
have no chance to escape to England. I am a lawyer. 
I know what it would mean if the story got to the ears 
of the government. We have them safely in our hands. 
The others will soon die. Then — then there can be no 
mistake! They must be taken to the mines and kept 
there until I have explained everything to the people. 
Part of us shall conduct them to the lower mill and the 
rest of us go on to the bank with these chests of gold.” 

In the end, after much grumbling and fierce quarrel- 
ling, in which the prisoners took little or no interest, the 
band was divided into two parts. Rasula and six of the 
sturdiest men prepared to continue the journey to Ara- 
tat, transporting the chests. Five sullen, resentful fel- 
lows moved over beside the captives and threw themselves 
down upon the grassy sward, lighting their cigarettes 
with all the philosophical indifference of men who regard 
themselves as put upon by others at a time when there is 
no alternative. 

“We will wait here till day comes,” growled one of them 
defiantly. “Why should we risk our necks going down 
the pass to-night? It is one o’clock. The sun will be 
here in three hours. Go on !” 

“As you like, Abou Dal,” said Rasula, shrugging his 
pinched shoulders. “I shall come to the mill at six 
o’clock.” Turning to the prisoners, he bowed low and 
said, with a soft laugh : “Adios, my lady, and you, most 
noble sir. May your dreams be pleasant ones. Dream 


296 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


that you are wedded and have come into the wealth of 
Japat, but spare none of your dream to the husband and 
wife, who are lying awake and weeping for the foolish 
ones who would go searching for the forbidden fruit. 
Folly is a hard road to travel and it leads to the grave- 
yard of fools. Adios!” 

Lady Agnes bent over and dropped her face into her 
hands. She was trembling convulsively. Browne did 
not show the slightest sign that he had heard the galling 
words. 

At a single sharp command, the six men picked up 
the three chests and moved off rapidly down the road, 
Rasula striding ahead with the flaring torch. 

They were barely out of sight beyond the turn in the 
hill when Deppingham moved as though impulse was 
driving him into immediate attack upon the guards who 
were left behind with the unhappy prisoners. Chase 
laid a restraining hand upon his arm. 

“Wait! Plenty of time. Wait an hour. Don’t spoil 
everything. We’ll save them sure,” he breathed in the 
other’s ear. Deppingham’s groan was almost loud 
enough to have been heard above the rustling leaves and 
the collective maledictions of the disgusted islanders. 

The minutes slipped by with excruciating slowness. 
The wakeful eyes of the three watchers missed nothing 
that took place in the little grass-grown niche below them. 
They could have sprung almost into the centre of the 
group from the position they occupied. Utterly uncon- 
scious of the surveillance, the islanders gradually sunk 
into a morose, stupid silence. If the watchers hoped 
that they might go to sleep they were to be disappointed. 
Two of the men sat with their backs to the rocks, their 
rifles across their knees. The others sprawled lazily upon 
the soft grass. Two torches, stuck in the earth, threw 
a weird light over the scene. 


THE PURSUIT 


297 


Bobby Browne was now lying with his shoulder against 
a fallen tree-trunk, staring with unswerving gaze at the 
woman across the way. She was looking off into the 
night, steadfastly refusing to glance in his direction. 
For fully half an hour this almost speaking tableau 
presented itself to the spectators above. 

Then suddenly Lady Agnes arose to her feet and lifted 
her hands high toward the black dome of heaven, 
Salammbo-like, and prayed aloud to her God, the sneer* 
ing islanders looking on in silent derision. 

'!/• 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE PERSIAN ANGEL 

The man called Abou suddenly leaped to his feet, and, 
with the cry of an eager animal, sprang to her side. 
His arms closed about her slender figure with the unmis- 
takable lust of the victor. A piteous, heart-rending 
shriek left her lips as he raised her clear of the ground 
and started toward the dense shadows across the road. 
Her terror-stricken face was turned to the light; her 
cries for mercy were directed to the brute’s companions. 

They did not respond, but another did. A hoarse, in- 
articulate cry of rage burst from Deppingham’s lips. 
His figure shot out through the air and down the short 
slope with the rush of an infuriated beast. Even as the 
astonished Abou dropped his struggling burden to meet 
the attack of the unexpected deliverer, he was felled to 
the earth by a mighty blow from the rifle which his as- 
sailant swung swift and true. His skull was crushed as 
if it were an eggshell. 

Lady Agnes struggled to her feet, wild-eyed, half 
crazed by the double assault. The next instant she fell 
forward upon her face, dead to all that was to follow 
in the next few minutes. Her glazed eyes caught a fleet- 
ing glimpse of the figures that seemed to sweep down 
from the sky, and then all was blank. 

There was no struggle. Chase and Selim were upon the 
stupefied islanders before they could move, covering them 
with their rifles. The wretches fell upon their knees and 
howled for mercy. While Deppingham was holding his 
wife’s limp form in his arms, calling out to her in the 
agony of fear, utterly oblivious to all else that was hap- 
pening about him, his two friends were swiftly disarm- 


THE PERSIAN ANGEL 


299 


ing the grovelling natives. Selim’s knife severed the 
cords that bound Bobby Browne’s hands; he was star- 
ing blankly, dizzily before him, and many minutes passed 
before he was able to comprehend that deliverance had 
come. 

Ten minutes later Chase was addressing himself to the 
four islanders, who, bound and gagged, were tied by their 
own sashes to trees some distance from the roadside. 

“I’ve just thought of a little service you fellows can 
perform for me in return for what I’ve done for you. 
All the time you’re doing it, however, there will be pis- 
tols quite close to your backs. I find that Lady Dep- 
pingham is much too weak to take the five miles’ walk 
we’ve got to do in the next two hours — or less. You are 
to have the honour of carrying her four miles and a 
half, and you will have to get along the best you can 
with the gags in your mouths. I’m rather proud of the 
inspiration. We were up against it, hard, until 
I thought of you fellows wasting your time up here in 
the woods. Corking scheme, isn’t it? Two of you form 
a basket with your hands — I’ll show you how. You 
carry her for half a mile; then the other two may have 
the satisfaction of doing something just as handsome for 
the next half mile — and so on. Great, eh?” 

And it was in just that fashion that the party started 
,ofF without delay in the direction of the chateau. Two 
of the cowed but eager islanders were carrying her 
ladyship between them, Deppingham striding close be- 
hind in a position to catch her should she again lose 
consciousness. Her tense fingers clung to the straining 
shoulders of the carriers, and, although she swayed diz- 
zily from time to time, she maintained her trying posi- 
tion with extreme courage and cool-headedness. Now 
and then she breathed aloud the name of her husband, as 
if to assure herself that he was near at hand. She kept 


300 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


her eyes closed tightly, apparently uniting every vestige 
of force in the effort to hold herself together through 
the last stages of the frightful ordeal which had fallen 
to her that night. 

With Selim in the lead, the little procession moved 
swiftly but cautiously through the black jungle, bent on 
reaching the gate if possible before the night lifted. 
Chase and Bobby Browne brought up the rear with the 
two reserve carriers in hand. Browne, weak and suffer- 
ing from torture and exposure, struggled bravely 
along, determined not to retard their progress by a single 
movement of indecision. He had talked volubly for the 
first few minutes after their rescue, but now was silent 
and intent upon thoughts of his own. His head and face 
were bruised and cut; his body was stiff and sore from 
the effects of his valiant battle in the cavern and the 
subsequent hardships of the march. 

In his heart Bobby Browne was now raging against 
the fate that had placed him in this humiliating, almost 
contemptible position. He, and he alone, was responsible 
for the sufferings that Lady Agnes had endured: it was 
as gall and wormwood to him that other men had been 
ordained to save her from the misery that he had created. 
He could almost have welcomed death for himself and her 
rather than to have been saved by George Deppingham. 
As he staggered along, propelled by the resistless force 
which he knew to be a desire to live in spite of it all, 
he was wondering how he could ever hold up his head 
again in the presence of those who damned him, even as 
they had prayed for him. 

His wife ! He could never be the same to her. He had 
forfeited the trust and confidence of the one loyal be- 
liever among them all. . . . And now, Lady Depping- 
ham loathed him because his weakness had been greater 
than hers ! 


THE PERSIAN ANGEL 


301 


When he would have slain the four helpless islanders 
with his own hands, Hollingsworth Chase had stayed his 
rage with the single, caustic adjuration: 

“Keep out of this, Browne! You’ve been enough of a 
damned bounder without trying that sort of thing.” 

Tears were in Bobby Browne’s eyes as, mile after mile, 
he blundered along at the side of his fellow-countryman, 
his heart bleeding itself dry through the wound those 
words had made. 

It was still pitch dark when they came to the ridge 
above the park. Through the trees the lights in the 
chateau could be seen. Lady Agnes opened her eyes and 
cried out in tremulous joy. A great wave of exaltation 
swept over Hollingsworth Chase. She was watching and 
waiting there with the others ! 

“Dame Fortune is good to us,” he said, quite irrele- 
vantly. Selim muttered the sacred word “Allah.” 
Chase’s trend of thought, whatever it may have been, 
was ruthlessly checked. “That reminds me,” he said 
briskly, “we can’t waste Allah’s time in dawdling here. 
Luck has been with us — and Allah, too — great is Allah ! 
But we’ll have to do some skilful sneaking on our own 
hook, just the same. If the upper gate is being watched 
— and I doubt it very much — we’ll have a hard time get- 
ting inside the walls, signal or no signal. The first thing 
for us to do is to make everything nice and snug for 
our four friends here. You’ve laboured well and faith- 
fully,” he said to the panting islanders, “and I’m going 
to reward you. I’m going to set you free. But not yet. 
Don’t rejoice. First, we shall tie you securely to four 
stout trees just off the road. Then we’ll leave you to 
take a brief, much-needed rest. Lady Deppingham, I 
fancy, can walk the rest of the way through the woods. 
Just as soon as we are inside the walls, I’ll find some way 
to let your friends know that you are here. You can 


302 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


explain the situation to them better than I can. Tell 
’em that it might have been worse.” 

He and Selim promptly marched the bewildered isl- 
anders into the wood. Bobby Browne, utterly exhausted, 
had thrown himself to the soft earth. Lady Depping- 
ham was standing, swaying but resolute, her gaze upon 
the distant, friendly windows. 

At last she turned to look at her husband, timorously, 
an appeal in her eyes that the darkness hid. He was 
staring at her, a stark figure in the night. After a long, 
tense moment of indecision, she held out her hands and 
he sprang forward in time to catch her as she swayed 
toward him. She was sobbing in his arms. Bobby 
Browne’s heavy breathing ceased in that instant, and he 
closed his ears against the sound that came to them. 

Deppingham gently implored her to sit down with him 
and rest. Together they walked a few paces farther 
away from their companion and sat down by the road- 
side. For many minutes no word was spoken; neither 
could whisper the words that were so hard in finding their 
way up from the depths. At last she said: 

“I’ve made you unhappy. I’ve been so foolish. It 
has not been fun, either, my husband. God knows it 
hasn’t. You do not love me now.” 

He did not answer her at once and she shivered fearfully 
in his arms. Then he kissed her brow gently. 

“I do love you, Agnes,” he said intensely. “I will an- 
swer for my own love if you can answer for yours. Are 
you the same Agnes that you were? My Agnes?” 

“Will you believe me?” 

“Yes.” 

“I could lie to you — God knows I would lie to you.” 

“I — I would rather you lied to me than to ” 

“I know. Don’t say it. George,” as she put her hands 
to his face and whispered in all the fierceness of a des- 


THE PERSIAN ANGEL 


303 


perate longing to convince him, “I am the same Agnes. 
I am your Agnes. I am! You do believe me?” 

He crushed her close to his breast and then patted her 
shoulder as a father might have touched an erring child. 

“That’s all I ask of you,” he said. She lay still and 
almost breathless for a long time. 

At last she spoke: “It is not wholly his fault, George. 
I was to blame. I led him on. You understand?” 

“Poor devil!” said he drily. “It’s a way you have, 
dear.” 

The object of this gentle commiseration was staring 
with gloomy eyes at the lights below. He was saying to 
himself, over and over again : “If I can only make Drusie 
understand !” 

Chase and Selim came down upon this little low-toned 
picture. The former paused an instant and smiled joy- 
ously in the darkness. 

“Come,” was all he said. Without a word the three 
arose and started off down the road. A few hundred feet 
farther on, Selim abruptly turned off among the trees. 
They made their way slowly, cautiously to a point 
scarcely a hundred feet from the wall and somewhat to 
the right of the small gate. Here he left them and crept 
stealthily away. A few minutes later he crept back to 
them, a soft hiss on his lips. 

“Five men are near the gate,” he whispered. “They 
watch so closely that no one may go to rescue those who 
have disappeared. Friends are hidden inside the wall, 
ready to open the gate at a signal. They have waited 
with Neenah all night. And day is near, sahib.” 

“We must attack at once,” said Chase. “We can take 
them by surprise. No killing, mind you. They’re not 
looking for anything to happen outside the walls. It 
will be easy if we are careful. No shooting unless neces- 
sary. If we should fail to surprise them, Selim and I 


304 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


will dash off into the forest and they will follow us. 
Then, Deppingham, you and Browne get Lady Depping- 
ham inside the gate. We’ll look out for ourselves. 
Quiet now!” 

Five shadowy figures soon were distinguished huddled 
close to the wall below the gate. The sense of sight had 
become keen during those trying hours in the darkness. 

The islanders were conversing in low tones, a word or 
two now and then reaching the ears of the others. It 
was evident from what was being said, that, earlier in 
the evening, messengers had carried the news from 
Rasula to the town ; the entire population was now aware 
of the astounding capture of the two heirs. There had 
been rejoicing ; it was easy to picture the populace lying 
in wait for the expected relief party from the chateau. 

Suddenly a blinding, mysterious light flashed upon the 
muttering group. As they fell back, a voice, low and 
firm, called out to them: 

“Not a sound or you die!” 

Four unwavering rifles were bearing upon the surprised 
islanders and four very material men were advancing 
from the ghostly darkness. An electric lantern shot a 
ray of light athwart the scene. 

“Drop your guns — quick !” commanded Chase. 
“Don’t make a row !” 

Paralysed with fear and amazement, the men obeyed. 
They could not have done otherwise. The odds were 
against them ; they were bewildered ; they knew not how 
to combat what seemed to them an absolutely super- 
natural force. 

While the three white men kept them covered with 
their rifles, Selim ran to the gate, uttering the shrill cry 
of a night bird. There was a rush of feet inside the 
walls, subdued exclamations, and then a glad cry. 

“Quick !” called Selim. The keys rattled in the locks, 


THE PERSIAN ANGEL 


305 


the bolts were thrown down, and an instant later, Lady 
Deppingham was flying across the space which intervened 
between her and the gate, where five or six figures were 
huddled and calling out eagerly for haste. 

The men were beside her a moment later, possessed of 
the weapons of the helpless sentinels. With a crash the 
gates were closed and a joyous laugh rang out from 
the exultant throat of Hollingsworth Chase. 

“By the Lord Harry, this is worth while !” he shouted. 
Outside, the maddened guards were sounding the tardy 
alarm. Chase called out to them and told them where 
they could find the four men in the forest. Then he 
turned to follow the group that had scurried off toward 
the chateau. The first grey shade of day was coming 
into the night. 

He saw Neenah ahead of him, standing still in the 
centre of the gravelled path. Beyond her was the tall 
figure of a man. 

“You are a trump, Neenah,” cried Chase, hurrying up 
to her. “A Persian angel !” 

It was not Neenah’s laugh that replied. Chase gasped 
in amazement and then uttered a cry of joy. 

The Princess Genevra, slim and erect, was standing 
before him, her hand touching her turban in true mili- 
tary salute, soft laughter rippling from her lips. 

In the exuberance of joy, he clasped that little hand 
and crushed it against his lips. 

“You !” he exclaimed. 

“Shi” she warned, “I have retained my guard of 
honour.” 

He looked beyond her and beheld the tall, soldierly fig- 
ure of a Rapp-Thorberg guardsman. 

“The devil!” fell involuntarily from his lips. 

“Not at all. He is here to keep me from going to the 
devil,” she cried so merrily that he laughed aloud with 


306 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


her in the spirit of unbounded joy. “Come! Let us 
run after the others. I want to run and dance and 
sing.” 

He still held her hand as they ran swiftly down the 
drive, followed closely by the faithful sergeant. 

“You are an angel,” he said in her ear. She laughed 
as she looked up into his face. 

“Yes — a Persian angel,” she cried. “It’s so much 
easier to run well in a Persian angel’s costume,” 
she added. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


A PRESCRIBED MAEADY 

“You are wonderful, staying out there all night watch- 
ing for — us.” He was about to say “me.” 

“How could any one sleep? Neenah found this dress 
for me — aren’t these baggy trousers funny? She rifled 
the late Mr. Wyckholme’s wardrobe. This costume once 
adorned a sultana, I’m told. It is a most priceless treas- 
ure. I wore it to-night because I was much less con- 
spicuous as a sultana than I might have been had I 
gone to the wall as a princess.” 

“I like you best as the Princess,” he said, frankly sur- 
veying her in the grey light. 

“I think I like myself as the Princess, too,” she said 
naively. He sighed deeply. They were quite close to 
the excited group on the terrace when she said: “I am 
very, very happy now, after the most miserable night I 
have ever known. I was so troubled and afraid ” 

“Just because I went away for that little while? Don’t 
forget that I am soon to go out from you for all time. 
How then?” 

“Ah, but then I will have Paris,” she cried gaily. He 
was puzzled by her mood — but then, why not? What 
could he be expected to know of the moods of royal 
princesses? No more than he could know of their loves. 

Lady Deppingham was got to bed at once. The Prin- 
cess, more thrilled by excitement than she ever had been 
in her life, attended her friend. In the sanctity of her 
chamber, the exhausted young Englishwoman bared her 
soul to this wise, sympathetic young woman in Persian 
vestment. 

“Genevra,” she said solemnly, in the end, “take warn- 


308 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


in g from my example. When you once are married, 
don’t trifle with other men — not even if you shouldn’t 
love your husband. Sooner or later you’d get tripped 
up. It doesn’t pay, my dear. I never realised until to- 
night how much 1 really care for Deppy and I am hor- 
ribly afraid that I’ve lost something I can never re- 
cover. I’ve made him unhappy and — and — all that. 
Can you tell me what it is that made me — but never 
mind! I’m going to be good.” 

“You were not in love with Mr. Browne. That is why 
I can’t understand } T ou, Agnes.” 

“My dear, I don’t understand myself. How can I 
expect you or my husband to understand me? How 
could I expect it of Bobby Browne? Oh, dear; oh, 
dear, how tired I am ! I think I shall never move out 
of this bed again. What a horrible, horrible time I’ve 
had.” She sat up suddenly and stared widened before 
her, looking upon phantoms that came out of the hours 
just gone. 

“Hush, dear! Lie down and go to sleep. You will 
feel better in a little while.” Lady Agnes abruptly 
turned to her with a light in her eyes that checked the 
kindly impulses. 

“Genevra, you are in love — madly in love with Hol- 
lingsworth Chase. Take my advice: marry him. He’s 
one man in a — ” Genevra placed her hand over the lips 
of the feverish young woman. 

“I will not listen to anything more about Mr. Chase,” 
she said firmly. “I am tired — tired to death of being told 
that I should marry him.” 

“But you love him,” Lady Agnes managed to mumble, 
despite the gentle impediment. 

“I do love him, yes, I do love him,” cried the Princess, 
casting reserve to the winds. “He knows it — every one 
knows it. But marry him? No — no — no! I shall 


A PRESCRIBED MALADY 


309 


marry Karl. My father, my mother, my grandfather, 
have said so — and I have said it, too. And his father 
and grandfather and a dozen great grandparents have 
ordained that he shall marry a princess and I a prince. 
That ends it, Agnes ! Don’t speak of it again.” She 
cast herself down upon the side of the bed and clenched 
her hands in the fierceness of despair and — decision. 

After a moment, Lady Agnes said dreamily : “I climbed 
up the ladder to make a ‘ladyship’ of myself by marriage 
and I find I love my husband. I daresay if you should 
go down the ladder a few rounds, my dear, you might be 
as lucky. But take my advice, if you won't marry Hol- 
lingsworth Chase, don’t let him come to Paris.” 

The Princess Genevra lifted her face instantly, a 
startled expression in her eyes. 

“Agnes, you forget yourself!” 

“My dear,” murmured Lady Agnes sleepily, “forgive 
me, but I have such a shockingly absent mind.” She was 
asleep a moment later. 

In the meantime, Bobby Browne, disdaining all com- 
mands and entreaties, refused to be put to bed until he 
had related the story of their capture and the subsequent 
events that made the night memorable. He talked 
rapidly, feverishly, as if every particle of energy was 
necessary to the task of justifying himself in some meas- 
ure for the night’s mishap. He sat with his rigid arm 
about his wife’s shoulders. Drusilla was stroking one of 
his hands in a half-conscious manner, her eyes staring 
past his face toward the dark forest from which he had 
come. Mr. Britt was ordering brandy and wine for his 
trembling client. 

“After all,” said Browne, hoarse with nervousness, 
“there is some good to be derived from our experiences, 
hard as it may be to believe. I have found out the means 
by which Rasula intends to destroy every living creature 


310 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


in the chateau.” He made this statement at the close 
of the brief, spasmodic recital covering the events of the 
night. Every one drew nearer. Chase threw off his spell 
of languidness and looked hard at the speaker. “Rasula 
coolly asked me, at one of our resting places, if there 
had been any symptoms of poisoning among us. I 
mentioned Pong and the servants. The devil laughed 
gleefully in my face and told me that it was but the 
beginning. I tell you, Chase, we can’t escape the dia- 
bolical scheme he has arranged. We are all to be 
poisoned — I don’t see how we can avoid it if we stay here 
much longer. It is to be a case of slow death by the 
most insidious scheme of poisoning imaginable, or, on 
the other hand, death by starvation and thirst. The 
water that comes to us from the springs up there in the 
hills is to be poisoned by those devils.” 

There were exclamations of unbelief, followed by the 
sharp realisation that he was, after all, pronouncing 
doom upon each and every one of those who listened. 

“Rasula knows that we have no means of securing water 
except from the springs. Several days ago his men 
dumped a great quantity of some sort of poison into the 
stream — a poison that is used in washing or polishing 
the rubies, whatever it is. Well, that put the idea into 
his head. He is going about it shrewdly, systematically. 
I heard him giving instructions to one of his lieutenants. 
He thought I was still unconscious from a blow I re- 
ceived when I tried to interfere in behalf of Lady Agnes, 
who was being roughly dragged along the mountain 
road. Day and night a detachment of men are to be 
employed at the springs, deliberately engaged in the 
attempt to change the flow of pure water into a slow, 
subtle, deadly poison, the effects of which will not be 
immediately fatal, but positively so in the course of a 
few days. Every drop of water that we drink or use 


A PRESCRIBED MALADY 


311 


in any way will be polluted with this deadly cyanide. It’s 
only a question of time. In the end we shall sicken and 
die as with the scourge. They will call it the plague !” 

A shudder of horror swept through the crowd. Every 
one looked into his neighbour’s face with a profound 
inquiring light in his eyes, seeking for the first evi- 
dence of approaching death. 

Hollingsworth Chase uttered a short, scornful laugh as 
he unconcernedly lifted a match to one of his precious 
cigarettes. The others stared at him in amazement. He 
had been exceedingly thoughtful and preoccupied up to 
that moment. 

“Great God, Chase!” groaned Browne. “Is this a 
joke?” 

“Yes — and it’s on Rasula,” said the other laconically. 

“But even now, man, they are introducing this poison 
into our systems ” 

“You say that Rasula isn’t aware of the fact that you 
overheard what he said to his man? Then, even now, in 
spite of your escape, he believes that we may go on 
drinking the water without in the least suspecting what 
it has in store for us. Good ! That’s why I say the joke 
is on him.” 

“But, my God, we must have water to drink,” cried 
Britt. Mrs. Saunders alone divined the thought that 
filled Chase’s mind. She clapped her hands and cried 
out wonderingly : 

“I know! I — I took depositions in a poisoning case 
two years ago. Why, of course !” 

“Browne, you are a doctor — a chemist,” said Chase 
calmly, first bestowing a fine smile upon the eager Mrs. 
Saunders. “Well, we’ll distil and double and triple dis- 
til the water. That’s all. A schoolboy might have 
thought of that. It’s all right, old man. You’re 
fagged out ; your brain isn’t working well. Don’t look 


312 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


so crestfallen. Mr. Britt, you and Mr. Saunders will 
give immediate instructions that no more water is to be 
drunk — or used — until Mr. Browne has had a few hours’ 
rest. He can take an alcohol bath and we can all drink 
wine. It won’t hurt us. At ten o’clock sharp Dr. Browne 
will begin operating the distilling apparatus in the 
laboratory. As a matter of fact, I learned somewhere — 
at college, I imagine — that practically pure water may 
be isolated from wine.” He arose painfully and stretched 
himself. “I think I’ll get a little much-needed rest. Do 
the same, Browne — and have a rub down. By Jove, will 
you listen to the row my clients are making out there in 
the woods ! They seem to be annoyed over something.” 

Outside the walls the islanders were shouting and call- 
ing to each other; rifles were cracking, far and near, 
voicing, in their peculiarly spiteful way, the rage that 
reigned supreme. 

As Chase ascended the steps Bobby Browne and his 
wife came up beside him. 

“Chase,” said Browne, in a low voice, his face turned 
away to hide the mortification that filled his soul, “you 
are a man ! I want you to know that I thank you from 
the bottom of my heart.” 

“Never mind, old man! Say no more,” interrupted 
Chase, suddenly embarrassed. 

“I’ve been a fool, Chase. I don’t deserve the friend- 
ship of any one — not even that of my wife. It’s all 
over, though. You understand? I’m not a coward. 
I’ll do anything you say — take any risk — to pay for 
the trouble I’ve caused you all. Send me out to 
fight ” 

“Nonsense ! Your wife needs you, Browne. Don’t you, 
Mrs. Browne? There, now! It will be all right, just as 
I said. I daresay, Browne, that I wouldn’t have been 
above the folly that got the better of you. Only ” he 


A PRESCRIBED MALADY 


318 


hesitated for a minute — “only, it couldn’t have hap- 
pened to me if I had a wife as dear and as good and 
as pretty as the one you have.” 

Browne was silent for a long time, his arm still about 
Drusilla’s shoulder. At the end of the long hall he 
said with decision in his voice : 

“Chase, you may tell your clients that so far as I am 
concerned they may have the beastly island and every- 
thing that goes with it. I’m through with it all. I shall 
discharge Britt and ” 

“My dear boy, it’s most magnanimous of you,” cried 
Chase merrily. “But I’m afraid you can’t decide the 
question in such an off-hand, degage manner. Sleep over 
it. I’ve come to the conclusion that it isn’t so much of 
a puzzle as to how you are to get the island as how to 
get off of it. Take good care of him, Mrs. Browne. 
Don’t let him talk.” 

She held out her hand to him impulsively. There was 
an unfathomable, unreadable look in her dark eyes. As 
he gallantly lifted the cold fingers to his lips, she said, 
without taking her almost hungry gaze from his face: 

“Thank you, Mr. Chase. I shall never forget you.” 

He stood there looking after them as they went up 
the stairway, a puzzled expression in his face. After 
a moment he shook his head and smiled vaguely as he 
said to himself : 

“I guess he’ll be a good boy from now on.” But he 
wondered what it was that he had seen or felt in her 
sombre gaze. 

In fifteen minutes he was sound asleep in his room, 
his long frame relaxed, his hands wide open in utter 
fatigue. He dreamed of a Henner girl with Genevra’s 
brilliant face instead of the vague, greenish features 
that haunt the vision with their subtle mysticism. 

He was awakened at noon by Selim, who obeyed his 


314 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


instructions to the minute. The eager Arab rubbed the 
soreness and stiffness out of his master’s body with copi- 
ous applications of alcohol. 

“I’m sorry you awoke me, Selim,” said the master 
enigmatically. Selim drew back, dismayed. 44 You drove 
her away.” Selim’s eyes blinked with bewilderment. 
44 I’m afraid she’ll never come back.” 

“Excellency !” trembled on the lips of the mystified 
servant. 

“Ah, me!” sighed the master resignedly. “She smiled 
so divinely. Henner girls never smile, do they, Selim? 
Have you noticed that they are always pensive? Per- 
haps you haven’t. It doesn’t matter. But this one 
smiled. I say,” coming back to earth, “have they begun 
to distil the water? I’ve got a frightful thirst.” 

“Yes, excellency. The Sahib Browne is at work. One 
of the servants became sick to-day. Now no one is 
drinking the water. Baillo is bringing in ice from the 
storehouses and melting it, but the supply is not large. 
Sahib Browne will not let them make any more ice at 
present.” Nothing more was said until Chase was ready 
for his rolls and coffee. Then Selim asked hesitatingly, 

“Excellency, what is a bounder? Mr. Browne says ” 

“I believe I did call him a bounder,” interrupted Chase 
reminiscently. “I spoke hastily and I’ll give him a 
chance to demand an explanation. He’ll want it, be- 
cause he’s an American. A bounder, Selim? Well,” 
closing one eye and looking out of the window calcu- 
latingly, “a bounder is a fellow who keeps up an ac- 
quaintance with you by persistently dunning you for 
money that you’ve owed to him for four or five years. 
Any one who annoys you is a bounder.” 

Selim turned this over in his mind for some time, but 
the puzzled air did not lift from his face. 

“Excellency, you will take Selim to live with you in 


A PRESCRIBED MALADY 


315 


Paris?” he said after a while wistfully. “I will be your 
slave.” 

“Paris? Who the dickens said anything about Paris?” 
demanded Chase, startled. 

“Neenah says you will go there to live, sahib.” 

“Um — um,” mused Chase ; “what does she know about 
it?” 

“Does not the most glorious Princess live in Paris?” 
“Selim, you’ve been listening to gossip. It’s a fright- 
ful habit to get into. Put cotton in your ears. But 
if I were to take you, what would become of little 
Neenah?” 

“Oh, Neenah?” said Selim easily. “If she would be 
a trouble to you, excellency, I can sell her to a man 
I know.” 

Chase looked blackly at the eager Arab, who quailed. 
“You miserable dog!” 

Selim gasped. “Excellency!” 

“Don’t you love her?” 

“Yes, yes, sahib — yes ! But if she would be a trouble 
to you — no!” protested the Arab anxiously. Chase 
laughed as he came to appreciate the sacrifice his servant 
would make for him. 

“I’ll take you with me, Selim, wherever I go — and if 
I go — but, my lad, we’ll take Neenah along, too, to save 
trouble. She’s not for sale, my good Selim.” The 
husband of Neenah radiated joy. 

“Then she may yet be the slave of the most glorious 
Princess! Allah is great! The most glorious one has 

asked her if she will not come with her ” 

“Selim,” commanded the master ominously, “don’t re- 
peat the gossip you pick up when I’m not around.” 


CHAPTER XXXII 


THE TWO WORLDS 

Two days and nights crept slowly into the past, and 
now the white people of the chateau had come to the 
eve of their last day’s stay on the island of Japat: the 
probationary period would expire with the sun on the 
following day, the anniversary of the death of Taswell 
Skaggs. The six months set aside by the testator as suf- 
ficient for all the requirements of Cupid were to come to 
an inglorious end at seven o’clock on March 29th. Ac- 
cording to the will, if Agnes Ruthven and Robert Browne 
were not married to each other before the close of that 
day all of their rights in the estate were lost to them. 

To-morrow would be the last day of residence required, 
but, alack! Was it to be the last that they were to 
spend in the world-forsaken land? As they sat and stared 
gloomily at the spotless sea there was not a single opti- 
mist among them who felt that the end was near. Not 
a few were convincing themselves that their last days 
literally would be spent on the island. 

No later than that morning a steamer — a small Dutch 
freighter — had come to a stop off the harbour. But 
it turned tail and fled within an hour. No one came 
ashore; the malevolent tug went out and turned back 
the landing party which was ready to leave the ship’s 
side. The watchers in the chateau knew what it was 
that the tug’s captain shouted through his trumpet at 
a safe distance from the steamer. Through their glasses 
they saw the boat’s crew scramble back to the deck of the 
freighter; the action told the story plainer than words. 

The black and yellow flags at the end of the com- 
pany’s pier lent colour to a grewsome story ! 


THE TWO WORLDS 


317 


The hopeless look deepened in the eyes of the watchers. 
They saw the steamer move out to sea and then scuttle 
away as if pursued by demons. 

Hollingsworth Chase alone maintained a stubborn air 
of confidence and unconcern. He may not have felt as 
he looked, but something in his manner, assumed or real, 
kept the fires of hope alight in the breasts of all the 
others. 

“Don’t be downhearted, Bowles,” he said to the moping 
British agent. “You’ll soon be managing the bank 
again and patronising the American bar with the same 
old regularity.” 

“My word, Mr. Chase,” groaned Bowles, “how can you 
say a thing like that ? I daresay they’ve blown the bank 
to Jericho by this time. Besides, there won’t be an Ameri- 
can bar. And, moreover, I don’t intend to stay a minute 
longer than I have to on the beastly island. This taste 
of the old high life has spoiled me for everything else. 
I’m going back to London and sit on the banks of the 
Serpentine until it goes dry. Stay here ? I should rather 
say not.” 

There had been several vicious assaults upon the gates 
by the infuriated islanders during the day following the 
rescue of the heirs. Their rage and disappointment knew 
no bounds. For hours they acted like madmen ; only the 
most determined resistance drove them back from the 
gates. Some powerful influence suddenly exerted itself 
to restore them to a state of calmness. They abruptly 
gave up the fruitless, insensate attacks upon the walls 
and withdrew to the town, apparently defeated. The 
cause was obvious: Rasula had convinced them that 
Death already was lifting his hand to blot out the lives 
of those who opposed them. 

Bobby Browne was accomplishing wonders in the labora- 
tory. He seldom was seen outside the distilling room; 


318 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


his assiduity was marked, if not commented upon. Hour 
after hour he stood watch over the water that went up 
in vapour and returned to the crystal liquid that was 
more precious than rubies and sapphires. He was re- 
deeming himself, just as he was redeeming the water from 
the poison that had made it useless. He experimented 
with lizards: the water as it came from the springs 
brought quick death to the little reptiles. The fishes in 
the aquarium died before it occurred to any one to re- 
move them from the noxious water. 

Drusilla kept close to his side during all of these opera- 
tions. She seemed afraid or ashamed to join the others ; 
she avoided Lady Deppingham as completely as possi- 
ble. Her effort to be friendly when they were thrown 
together was almost pitiable. 

As for Lady Agnes, she seemed stricken by an uncon- 
querable lassitude; the spirits that had controlled her 
voice, her look, her movements, were sadty missing. It 
was with a most transparent effort that she managed 
to infuse life into her conversation. There were times 
when she stood staring out over the sea with unseeing 
eyes, and one knew that she was not thinking of the ocean. 
More than once Genevra had caught her watching Dep- 
pingham with eyes that spoke volumes, though they 
were mute and wistful. 

From time to time the sentinels brought to Lord Dep- 
pingham and Chase missives that had been tossed over 
the walls by the emissaries of Rasula. They were writ- 
ten by the leader himself and in every instance expressed 
the deepest sympathy for the plague-ridden chateau. It 
was evident that Rasula believed that the occupants 
were slowly but surely dying, and that it was but a ques- 
tion of a few days until the place would become a charnel- 
house. With atavic cunning he sat upon the outside and 
waited for the triumph of death. 


THE TWO WORLDS 


319 


“There’s a paucity of real news in these gentle messages 
that annoys me,” Chase said, after reading aloud the 
last of the epistles to the Princess and the Deppinghams. 
“I rejoice in my heart that he isn’t aware of the true 
state of affairs. He doesn’t appreciate the real calamity 
that confronts us. The Plague? Poison? Mere piffle. If 
he only knew that I am now smoking my last — the last 
cigarette on the place !” There was something so incon- 
ceivably droll in the lamentation that his hearers laughed 
despite their uneasiness. 

“I believe you would die more certainly from lack of 
cigarettes than from an over-abundance of poison,” 
said Genevra. She was thinking of the stock she had 
hoarded up for him in her dressing-table drawer, under 
lock and key. It occurred to her that she could have 
no end of housewifely thrills if she doled them out to 
him in niggardly quantities, at stated times, instead of 
turning them over to him in profligate abundance. 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” he said, taking a short in- 
halation. “I’ve never had the poison habit.” 

“I say, Chase, can’t you just see Rasula’s face when 
he learns that we’ve been drinking the water all along 
and haven’t passed away?” cried Deppingham, bright- 
ening considerably in contemplation of the enemy’s dis- 
gust. 

“And to think, Mr. Chase, we once called you ‘the 
Enemy,’ ” said Lady Agnes in a low, dreamy voice. 
There was a far-away look in her eyes. 

“I appear to have outlived my usefulness in that re- 
spect,” he said. He tossed the stub of his cigarette 
over the balcony rail. “Good-bye !” he said, with melan- 
choly emphasis. Then he bent an inquiring look upon 
the face of the Princess. 

“Yes,” she said, as if he had asked the question aloud. 
“You shall have three a day, that’s all.” 


320 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“You’ll leave the entire fortune to me when you sail 
away, I trust,” he said. The Deppinghams were puzzled. 
“But you also will be sailing away,” she argued. 

“I? You forget that I have had no orders to return. 
Sir John expects me to stay. At least, so I’ve heard 
in a roundabout way.” 

“You don’t mean to say, Chase, that you’ll stay on this 
demmed island if the chance comes to get away,” de- 
manded Lord Deppingham earnestly. The two women 
were looking at him in amazement. 

“Why not ? I’m an ally, not a deserter.” 

“You are a madman !” cried Lady Agnes. “Stay here? 
They would kill you in a jiffy. Absurd!” 

“Not after they’ve had another good long look at my 
warships, Lady Deppingham,” he replied, with a most 
reassuring smile. 

“Good Lord, Chase, you’re not clinging to that corpse- 
candle straw, are you?” cried his lordship, beginning to 
pace the floor. “Don’t be a fool! We can’t leave you 
here to the mercy of these brutes. What’s more, we 
won’t !” 

“My dear fellow,” said Chase ruefully, “we are talk- 
ing as though the ship had already dropped anchor out 
there. The chances are that we will have ample time 
to discuss the ethics of my rather anomalous position 
before we say good-bye to each other. I think I’ll take 
a stroll along the wall before turning in.” 

He arose and leisurely started to go indoors. The 
Princess called to him, and he paused. 

“Wait,” she said, coming up to him. They walked 
down the hallway together. “I will run upstairs and 
unlock the treasure chest. I do not trust even my maid. 
You shall have two to-night — no more.” 

“You’ve really saved them for me?” he queried, a note 
of eagerness in his voice. “All these days?” 


THE TWO WORLDS 


321 


“I have been your miser,” she said lightly, and then 
ran lightly up the stairs. 

He looked after her until she disappeared at the top 
with a quick, shy glance over her shoulder. Then he 
permitted his spirits to drop suddenly from the altitude 
to which he had driven them. An expression of utter 
dejection came into his face; a haggard look replaced 
the buoyant smile. 

“God, how I love her — how I love her!” he groaned, 
half aloud. 

She was coming down the stairs now, eager, flushed, 
more abashed than she would have had him know. With- 
out a word she placed the two cigarettes in his out- 
stretched palm. Her eyes were shining. 

In silence he clasped her hand and led her unresisting 
through the window and out upon the broad gallery. 
She was returning the fervid pressure of his fingers, 
warm and electric. They crossed slowly to the rail. 
Two chairs stood close together. They sat down, side by 
side. The power of speech seemed to have left them 
altogether. 

He laid the two cigarettes on the broad stone rail. She 
followed the movement with perturbed eyes, and then 
leaned forward and placed her elbows on the rail. With 
her chin in her hands, she looked out over the sombre 
park, her heart beating violently. After a long time 
she heard him saying hoarsely: 

“If the ship should come to-morrow, you would go 
out of my life? You would go away and leave me 
here ” 

“No, no !” she cried, turning upon him suddenly. “You 
could not stay here. You shall not!” 

“But, dearest love, I am bound to stay — I cannot go 
And, God help me, I want to stay. If I could go into 
your world and take you unto myself forever — if you 


322 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


will tell me now that some day you may forget your 
world and come to live in mine — then, ah, then, it would 
be different ! But without you I have no choice of abid- 
ing place. Here, as well as anywhere.” 

She put her hands over her eyes. 

“I cannot bear the thought of — of leaving you be- 
hind — of leaving you here to die at the hands of those 
beasts down there. Hollingsworth, I implore you — 
come ! If the opportunity comes — and it will, I know — 
you will leave the island with the rest of us?” 

“Not unless I am commanded to do so by the man who 
sent me here to serve these beasts, as you call them.” 

“They do not want you ! They are your enemies !” 

“Time will tell,” he said sententiously. He leaned over 
and took her hand in his. “You do love me?” 

“You know I do — yes, yes!” she cried from her heart, 
keeping her face resolutely turned away from him. “I 
am sick with love for you. Why should I deny the thing 
that speaks so loudly for itself — my heart! Listen! 
Can you not hear it beating? It is hurting me — yes, it 
is hurting me !” 

He trembled at this exhibition of released, unchecked 
passion, and yet he did not clasp her in his arms. 

“Will you come into my world, Genevra?” he whis- 
pered. “All my life would be spent in guarding the love 
you would give to me — all my life given to making you 
love me more and more until there will be no other world 
for you to think of.” 

“I wish that I had not been born,” she sobbed. “I can- 
not, dearest — I cannot change the laws of fate. I am 
fated — I am doomed to live forever in the dreary world 
of my fathers. But how can I give you up? How can 
I give up your love? How can I cast you out of my 
life?” 

“You do not love Prince Karl?” 


THE TWO WORLDS 


323 

“How can you ask?” she cried fiercely. “Am I not lov- 
ing you with all my heart and soul?” 

“And you would leave me behind if the ship should 
come?” he persisted, with cruel insistence. “You will 
go back and marry that — him? Loving me, you will 
marry him?” Her head dropped upon her arm. He 
turned cold as death. “God help and God pity you, my 
love. I never knew before what your little world means 
to you. I give you up to it. I crawl back into the 
one you look down upon with scorn. I shall not again 
ask you to descend to the world where love is.” 

Her hand lay limp in his. They stared bleakly out 
into the night and no word was spoken. 

The minutes became an hour, and yet they sat there 
with set faces, bursting hearts, unseeing eyes. 

Below them in the shadows, Bobby Browne was pacing 
the embankment, his wife drawn close to his side. Three 
men, Britt, Saunders and Bowles, were smoking their 
pipes on the edge of the terrace. Their words came up 
to the two in the gallery. 

“If I have to die to-morrow,” Saunders, the bridegroom, 
was saying, with real feeling in his voice, “I should say, 
with all my heart, that my life has been less than a 
week long. The rest of it was nothing. I never was 
happy before — and happiness is everything.” 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


THE SHIPS THAT PASS 

The next morning was rainy. A quick, violent storm 
had rushed up from the sea during the night. 

Chase, after a sleepless night, came down and, without 
waiting for his breakfast, hurried out upon the gallery 
overlooking the harbour. Genevra was there bef ore him, 
pale, wistful, heavy-eyed — standing in the shelter of a 
huge pilaster. The wind swept the thin, swishing rain- 
drops across the gallery on both sides of her position. 
He came up from behind. She was startled by the sound 
of his voice saying “good-morning.” 

“Hollingsworth,” she said drearily, “do you believe he 
will come to-day?” 

“He?” he asked, puzzled. 

“My uncle. The yacht was to call for me not later 
than to-day.” 

“I remember,” he said slowly. “It may come, Genevra. 
The day is young.” 

She clasped his hand convulsively, a desperate revolt in 
her soul. 

“I almost hope that it may not come for me!” she said, 
her voice shaking with suppressed emotion. 

“I am not so selfish as to wish that, dear one,” he 
said, after a moment of inconceivable ecstasy in which 
his own longing gave the lie to the words which 
followed. 

“It will not come. I feel it in my heart. We shall die 
here together, Hollingsworth. Ah, in that way I may 
escape the other life. No, no ! What am I saying? Of 
course I want to leave this dreadful island — this dread- 
ful, beautiful, hateful, happy island. Am I not too 


THE SHIPS THAT PASS 


325 


silly?” She was speaking rapidly, almost hysterically, 
a nervous, flickering smile on her face. 

“Dear one,” he said gently, “the yacht will come. If 
it should not come to-day, my cruisers will forestall its 
mission. As sure as there is a sea, those cruisers will 
come.” She looked into his eyes intently, as if afraid of 
something there. “Oh, Pm not mad !” he laughed. 
“You brought a cruiser to me one day ; I’ll bring one to 
you in return. We’ll be quits.” 

“Quits?” she murmured, hurt by the word. 

“Forgive me,” he said, humbled. 

“Hollingsworth,” she said, after a long, tense scrutiny 
of the sea, “how long will you remain on this island?” 

“Perhaps until I die — if death should come soon. If 
not, then God knows how long.” 

“Listen to me,” she said intensely. “For my sake, you 
will not stay long. You will come away before they 
kill you. You will! Promise me. You will come — to 
Paris? Some day, dear heart? Promise!” 

He stared at her beseeching face in wide-eyed amaze- 
ment. A wave of triumphant joy shot through him an 
instant later. To Paris ! She was asking him — but 
then he understood ! Despair was the inspiration of that 
hungry cry. She did not mean — no, no ! 

“To Paris?” he said, shaking his head sadly. “No, 
dearest one. Not now. Listen: I have in my bag up- 
stairs an offer from a great American corporation. I am 
asked to assume the management of its entire business 
in France. My headquarters would be in Paris. My 
duties would begin as soon as my contract with Sir John 
Brodney expires. The position is a lucrative one; it 
presents unlimited opportunities. I am a comparatively 
poor man. The letter was forwarded to me by Sir John. 
I have a year in which to decide.” 

“And you — you will decline?” she asked. 


326 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Yes. I shall go back to America, where there are 
no princesses of the royal blood. Paris is no place for 
the disappointed, cast-off lover. I can’t go there. I love 
you too madly. I’d go on loving you, and you — good 
as you are, would go on loving me. There is no tell- 
ing what would come of it. It will be hard for me to — 
to stay away from Paris — desperately hard. Sometimes 
I feel that I will not be strong enough to do it, 
Genevra.” 

“But Paris is huge, Hollingsworth,” she argued, in- 
sistently, an eager, impelling light in her eyes. “We 
would be as far apart as if the ocean were between us.” 

“Ah, but would we?” he demanded. 

“It is almost unheard-of for an American to gain en- 
tree to our — to the set in which — well, you understand,” 
she said, blushing painfully in the consciousness that 
she was touching his pride. He smiled sadly. 

“My dear, you will do me the honour to remember that 
I am not trying to get into your set. I am trying to 
induce you to come into mine. You won’t be tempted, so 
that’s the end of it. Beastly day, isn’t it?” He uttered 
the trite commonplace as if no other thought than that 
of the weather had been in his mind. “By the way,” he 
resumed, with a most genial smile, “for some queer, un- 
masculine reason, I took it into my head last night to 
worry about the bride’s trousseau. How are you going 
to manage it if you are unable to leave the island until — 
well, say June?” 

She returned his smile with one as sweetly detached 
as his had been, catching his spirit. “So good of you 
to worry,” she said, a defiant red in her cheeks. “You 
forget that I have a postponed trousseau at home. A 
few stitches here and there, an alteration or two, some 
smart summer gowns and hats — Oh, it will be so simple. 
What is it? What do you see?” 


THE SHIPS THAT PASS 327 

He was looking eagerly, intently toward the long, low 
headland beyond the town of Aratat. 

“The smoke ! See ? Close in shore, too ! By heaven, 
Genevra — there’s a steamer off there. She’s a small one 
or she wouldn’t run in so close. It — it may be the 
yacht ! Wait ! We’ll soon see. She’ll pass the point in a 
few minutes.” 

Scarcely breathing in their agitation, they kept the 
glasses levelled steadily, impatiently upon the distant 
point of land. The smoke grew thicker and nearer. 
Already the citizens of the town were rushing to the 
pier. Even before the vessel turned the point, the 
watchers at the chateau witnessed a most amazing per- 
formance on the dock. Half a hundred natives dropped 
down as if stricken, scattering themselves along the nar- 
row pier. For many minutes Chase was puzzled, be- 
wildered by this strange demonstration. Then, the ex- 
planation came to him like a flash. 

The people were simulating death ! They were posing 
as the victims of the plague that infested the land! 
Chase shuddered at this exhibition of diabolical cun- 
ning. Some of them were writhing as if in the death 
agony. It was at once apparent that the effect of this 
manifestation would serve to drive away all visitors, ap- 
palled and terrified. As he was explaining the ruse to 
his mystified companion, the nose of the vessel came out 
from behind the tree-covered point. 

An instant later, they were sending wild cries of joy 
through the chateau, and people were rushing toward 
them from all quarters. 

The trim white thing that glided across the harbour, 
graceful as a bird, was the Marquess’s yacht! 

It is needless to describe the joyous gale that swept the 
chateau into a maelstrom of emotions. Every one was 
shouting and talking and laughing at once; every one 


328 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


was calling out excitedly that no means should be spared 
in the effort to let the yacht know and appreciate the real 
situation. 

“Can the yacht take all of us away?” was the anxious 
cry that went round and round. 

They saw the tug put out to meet the small boat ; they 
witnessed the same old manoeuvres ; they sustained a chill 
of surprise and despair when the bright, white and blue 
boat from the yacht came to a stop at the command 
from the tug. 

There was an hour of parleying. The beleaguered ones 
signalled with despairing energy; the flag, limp in the 
damp air above the chateau, shot up and down in pitiful 
eagerness. 

But the small boat edged away from close proximity 
to the tug and the near-by dock. They spoke each other 
at long and ever-widening range. At last, the yacht’s 
boat turned and fled toward the trim white hull. 

Almost before the startled, dazed people on the bal- 
cony could grasp the full and horrible truth, the yacht 
had lifted anchor and was slowly headed out to sea. 

It was unbelievable! 

With stupefied, incredulous eyes, they saw the vessel 
get quickly under way. She steamed from the pest- 
ridden harbour with scarcely so much as a glance behind. 
Then they shouted and screamed after her, almost mad- 
dened by this final, convincing proof of the consummate 
deviltry against which they were destined to struggle. 

Chase looked grimly about him, into the questioning, 
stricken faces of his companions. He drew his hand 
across his moist forehead. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said seriously and without 
the faintest intent to jest, “we are supposed to be dead!” 

There was a single shriek from the bride of Thomas 
Saunders; no sound left the dry lips of the other 


THE SHIPS THAT PASS 


329 


watchers, who stood as if petrified and kept their eyes 
glued upon the disappearing yacht. 

“They have left me here to die!” came from the stif- 
fened lips of the Princess Genevra. “They have deserted 
me. God in heaven !” 

“Look!” cried Chase, pointing to the dock. Half a 
dozen glasses were turned in that direction. 

The djung and the dead were leaping about in the 
wildest exhibition of gleeful triumph ! 

The }^acht slipped into the unreachable horizon, the 
feathery cloud from its stack lying over against the 
leaden sky, shaped like a finger that pointed mockingly 
the way to safety. 

White-faced and despairing, the watchers turned away 
and dragged themselves into the splendid halls of the 
building they had now come to regard as their tomb. 
Their voices were hushed and tremulous ; they were look- 
ing at the handwriting on the wall. They had not 
noticed it there before. 

Saunders was bravely saying to his distracted wife, as 
he led her down the marble hall: 

“Don’t give up the ship, dear. My word for it, we’ll 
live to see that garden out Hammersmith way. My 
word for it, dear.” 

“He’s trying so hard to be brave,” said Genevra, op- 
pressed by the knowledge that it was her ship that had 
played them false. “And Agnes? Look, Hollingsworth! 
She is herself again. Ah, these British women come up 
under the lash, don’t they?” 

Lady Deppingham had thrown off her hopeless, de- 
spondent air ; she was crying out words of cheer and en- 
couragement to those about her. Her eyes were flash- 
ing, her head was erect and her voice was rich with 
inspiration. 

“And you?” asked Chase, after a moment. “What of 


330 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


you? Your ship has come and gone and you are still here 
— with me. You almost wished for this.” 

“No. I almost wished that it would not come. There 
is a distinction,” she said bitterly. “It has come and 
it has disappointed all of us — not one alone.” 

“Do you remember what it was that Saunders said 
about having lived only a week, all told? The rest was 
nothing.” 

“Yes — but you have seen that Saunders still covets life 
in a garden at Hammersmith Bridge. I am no less hu- 
man than Mr. Saunders.” 

All day long the islanders rejoiced. Their shouts could 
be plainly heard by the besieged; their rifles cracked 
sarcastic greetings from the forest; bullets whistled gay 
accompaniments to the ceaseless song: “Allah is great! 
Allah is good!” 

No man in the despised house of Taswell Skaggs slept 
that night. The guard was doubled at all points open 
to attack. It was well that the precaution was taken, for 
the islanders, believing that the enemy’s force had been 
largely reduced by the polluted water, made a vicious 
assault on the lower gates. There was a fierce exchange 
of shots and the attackers drew away, amazed, stunned 
by the discovery that the beleaguered band was as strong 
and as determined as ever. 

At two in the morning, Deppingham, Browne and Chase 
came up from the walls for coffee and an hour’s rest. 

“Chase, if you don’t get your blooming cruiser here be- 
fore long, we’ll be as little worth the saving as old man 
Skaggs, up there in his open-work grave,” Deppingham 
was saying as he threw himself wearily into a chair in 
the breakfast room. They were wet and cold. They had 
heard Rasula’s minions shouting derisively all night 
long: “Where is the warship? Where is the warship?” 

“It will come. I am positive.” said Chase, insistent in 


THE SHIPS THAT PASS 


331 


spite of his dejection. They drank their coffee in 
silence. He knew that the others — including the native 
who served them — were regarding him with the pit}' 
that one extends to the vain-glorious braggart who goes 
down with flying colours. 

He went out upon the west gallery and paced its wind- 
swept length for half an hour or more. Then, utterly 
fagged, he threw himself into an unexposed chair and 
stared through tired eyes into the inscrutable night that 
hid the sea from view. The faithless, moaning, jeering 
sea ! 

When he aroused himself with a start, the grey, drizzly 
dawn was upon him. He had slept. His limbs were stiff 
and sore ; his face was drenched by the fine rain that had 
searched him out with prankish glee. 

Thi next instant he was on his feet, clutching the stone 
balustrade with a grip of iron, his eyes starting from 
his head. A shout arose to his lips, but he lacked the 
power to give it voice. For many minutes he stood 
there, rooted to the spot, a song of thanksgiving surg- 
ing in his heart. 

He looked about him at last. He was alone in the gal- 
lery. A quaint smile grew in his face; his eyes were 
bright and full of triumph. After a full minute of prepa- 
ration, he made his way toward the breakfast room, out- 
wardly as calm as a May morning. 

Browne and Deppingham were asleep in the chairs. He 
shook them vigorously. As they awoke and stared un- 
comprehendingly at the disturber of their dreams, he 
said, in the coolest, most matter-of-fact way : 

“There’s an American cruiser outside the harbour. Get 

up!” 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


IN THE SAME GRAVE WITH SKAGGS 

Down in the village of Aratat there were signs of a 
vast commotion. Early risers and the guards were fly- 
ing from house to house, shouting the news. The citi- 
zens piled from their couches and raced pell-mell into the 
streets, unbelieving, demoralised. With one accord they 
rushed to the water front — men, women and children. 
Consternation was succeeded by utter panic. Rasula’s 
wild shouts went unheeded. He screamed and fought to 
secure order among his people, but his efforts were as 
nought against the storm of terror that confronted him. 

Outside the harbour lay the low, savage-looking ship. 
Its guns were pointed directly at the helpless town; its 
decks were swarming with white-clothed men ; it was alive 
and it glowered with rage in its evil eyes. 

The plague was forgotten! The strategy that had 
driven off the ships of peace was lost in the face of this 
ugly creature of war. No man grovelled on the dock 
with the convulsions of death ; no man hearkened to the 
bitter, impotent words of the single wise man among 
them. Rasula’s reign of strategy was ended. 

Howling like a madman, he tried to drive the company’s 
tug out to meet the sailors and urge them to keep away 
from the pest-ridden island. It was like pleading with a 
mountain avalanche. 

“They will not fire ! They dare not !” he was shrieking, 
as he dashed back and forth along the dock. “It is chance ! 
They do not come for Chase ! Believe in me ! The tug ! The 
tug! They must not land!” But others were raging 
even more wildly than he, and they were calling upon 
Allah for help, for mercy; they were shrieking maledic- 


IN THE SAME GRAVE WITH SKAGGS SSS 

tions upon themselves and screaming praises to the sinis- 
ter thing of death that glowered upon them from its 
spaceless lair. 

The crash of the long-unused six-pounder at the 
chateau, followed almost immediately by a great roar 
from one of the cruiser’s guns, brought the panic to a 
crisis. 

The islanders scattered like chaff before the wind, look- 
ing wild-eyed over their shoulders in dread of the pursu- 
ing cannon-ball, dodging in and out among the houses 
and off into the foothills. 

Rasula, undaunted but crazed with disappointment, 
stuck to his colours on the deserted dock. He cursed and 
raved and begged. In time, two or three of the more 
canny, realising that safety lay in an early peace offer- 
ing, ventured out beside him. Others followed their 
example and still others slunk trembling to the fore, 
their voices ready to protest innocence and friendship and 
loyalty. 

They had heard of the merciless American gunner and 
they knew, in their souls, that he could shoot the island 
into atoms before nightfall. 

The native lawyer harangued them and cursed them 
and at last brought them to understand, in a feeble way, 
that no harm could come to them if they faced the situa- 
tion boldly. The Americans would not land on British 
soil; it would precipitate war with England. They 
would not dare to attempt a bombardment: Chase was 
a liar, a mountebank, a dog! After shouting himself 
hoarse in his frenzy of despair, he finally succeeded in 
forcing the men to get up steam in the company’s tug. 

All this time, the officers of the American warship were 
dividing their attention between land and sea. Another 
vessel was coming up out of the misty horizon. The 
men on board knew it to be a British man-of-war ! 

At last steam was up in the tug. A hundred or more 


334 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


of the islanders had ventured from their hiding places 
and were again huddled upon the dock. 

Suddenly the throng separated as if by magic, opening 
a narrow path down which three white men approached 
the startled Rasula. A hundred eager hands were ex- 
tended, a hundred voices cried out for mercy, a hundred 
Mohammedans beat their heads in abject submission. 

Hollingsworth Chase, Lord Deppingham and a familiar 
figure in an ill-fitting red jacket and forage cap strode 
firmly, defiantly between the rows of humble Japatites. 
Close behind them came a tall, resolute grenadier of 
the Rapp-Thorberg army. 

“Make way there, make way !” Mr. Bowles was crying, 
brandishing the antique broadsword that had come down 
to Wyckholme from the dark ages. “Stand aside for the 
British Government! Make way for the American!” 

Rasula’s jaw hung limp in the face of this amazing ex- 
hibition of courage on the part of the enemy. He could 
not at first believe his eyes. Hoarse, inarticulate cries 
came from his froth-covered lips. He was glaring in- 
sanely at the calm, triumphant face of the man from 
Brodney’s, who was now advancing upon him with the 
assurance of a conqueror. 

“You see, Rasula, I have called for the cruiser and 
it has come at my bidding.” Turning to the crowd that 
surged up from behind, cowed and cringing, Chase said: 
“It rests with you. If I give the word, that ship will 
blow you from the face of the earth. I am your friend, 
people. I would you no harm, but good. You have been 
misled by Rasula. Rasula, you are not a fool. You can 
save yourself, even now. I am here as the servant of 
these people, not as their master. I intend to remain 
here until I am called back by the man who sent me to 
you. You have ” 

Rasula uttered a shriek of rage. He had been crouch- 


IN THE SAME GRAVE WITH SKAGGS 335 

ing back among his cohorts, panting with fury. Now 
he sprang forward, murder in his eyes. His arm was 
raised and a great pistol was levelled at the breast of 
the man who faced him so coolly, so confidently. Dep- 
pingham shouted and took a step forward to divert the 
aim of the frenzied lawyer. 

A revolver cracked behind the tall American and Rasula 
stopped in his tracks. There was a great hole in his 
forehead; his eyes were bursting; he staggered back- 
ward, his knees gave way; and, as the blood filled the 
hole and streamed down his face, he sank to the ground — 
dead! 

The soldier from Rapp-Thorberg, a smoking pistol in 
his hand, the other raised to his helmet, stepped to the 
side of Hollingsworth Chase. 

“By order of Her Serene Highness, sir,” he said quietly. 
“Good God!” gasped Chase, passing his hand across 
his brow. For a full minute there was no sound to be 
heard on the pier except the lapping of the waves. 
Deppingham, repressing a shudder, addressed the 
stunned natives. 

“Take the body away. May that be the end of all 
assassins !” 

***** 

The King’s Own came alongside the American vessel in 
less than an hour. Accompanied by the British agent, 
Mr. Bowles, Chase and Deppingham left the dock in the 
company’s tug and steamed out toward the two monsters. 
The American had made no move to send men ashore, nor 
had the British agent deemed it wise to ask aid of the 
Yankees in view of the fact that a vessel of his own na- 
tion was approaching. 

Standing on the forward deck of the swift little tug, 
Chase unconcernedly accounted for the timely arrival of 
the two cruisers. 


336 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“Three weeks ago I sent out letters by the mail steamer, 
to be delivered to the English or American commanders, 
wherever they might be found. Undoubtedly they were 
met with in the same port. That is why I was so posi- 
tive that help would come, sooner or later. It was very 
simple, Lord Deppingham, merely a case of foresighted- 
ness. I knew that we’d need help and I knew that if 
I brought the cruisers my power over these people would 
never be disturbed again.” 

“My word!” exclaimed the admiring Bowles. 

“Chase, you may be theatric, but you are the most de- 
pendable chap the world has ever known,” said Depping- 
ham, and he meant it. 

The warships remained off the harbour all that day. 
Officers from both ships were landed and escorted to the 
chateau, where j oy reigned supreme, notwithstanding the 
fact that the grandchildren of the old men of the island 
were morally certain that their cause was lost. The Brit- 
ish captain undertook to straighten out matters on the 
island. He consented to leave a small detachment of 
marines in the town to protect Chase and the bank, and 
he promised the head men of the village, whom he had 
brought aboard the ship, that no mercy would be shown 
if he or the American captain was compelled to make a 
second visit in response to a call for aid. To a man 
the islanders pledged fealty to the cause of peace and 
justice: they shouted the names of Chase and Allah in 
the same breath, and demanded of the latter that He pre- 
serve the former’s beard for all eternity. 

The King's Own was to convey the liberated heirs, their 
goods and chattels, their servants and their penates (if 
any were left inviolate) to Aden, whither the cruiser was 
bound. At that port a P. & O. steamer would pick 
them up. One white man elected to stay on the island 
with Hollingsworth Chase, who steadfastly refused to 


IN THE SAME GRAVE WITH SKAGGS SS7 

desert his post until Sir John Brodney indicated that his 
mission was completed. That one man was the wearer 
of the red jacket, the bearer of the King’s commission in 
Japat, the undaunted Mr. Bowles, won over from his 
desire to sit once more on the banks of the Serpentine 
and to dine forever in the Old Cheshire Cheese. 

The Princess Genevra, the wistful light deepening 
hourly in her blue-grey eyes, avoided being alone with 
the man whom she was leaving behind. She had made 
up her mind to accept the fate inevitable; he had recon- 
ciled himself to the ending of an impossible dream. There 
was nothing more to say, except farewell. She may have 
bled in her soul for him and for the happiness that was 
dying as the minutes crept on to the hour of parting, 
but she carefully, deliberately concealed the wounds from 
all those who stood by and questioned with their eyes. 

She was a princess of Rapp-Thorberg ! 

The last day dawned. The sun smiled down upon them. 
The soft breeze of the sea whispered the curse of des- 
tiny into their ears; it crooned the song of heritage; it 
called her back to the fastnesses where love may not 
venture in. 

The chateau was in a state of upheaval ; the exodus was 
beginning. Servants and luggage had departed on their 
way to the dock. Palanquins were waiting to carry the 
lords and ladies of the castle down to the sea. The Prin- 
cess waited until the last moment. She went to him. 
He was standing apart from the rest, coldly indifferent 
to the pangs he was suffering. 

“I shall love you always,” she said simply, giving him 
her hand. “Always, Hollingsworth.” Her eyes were 
wide and hopeless, her lips were white. 

He bowed his head. “May God give you all the happi- 
ness that I wish for you,” he said. “The End!” 

She looked steadily into his eyes for a long time, 


338 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


searching his soul for the hope that never dies. Then 
she gently withdrew her hands and stood away from him, 
humbled in her own soul. 

“Yes,” she whispered. “Good-bye.” 

He straightened his shoulders and drew a deep breath 
through compressed nostrils. “Good-bye! God bless 
you,” was all that he said. 

She left him standing there; the wall between them 
was too high, too impregnable for even Love to storm. 

Lady Deppingham came to him there a moment later. 
“I am sorry,” she said tenderly. “Is there no hope?” 

“There is no hope — for her!” he said bitterly. “She 
was condemned too long ago.” 

On the pier they said good-bye to him. He was laugh- 
ing as gaily and as blithely as if the world held no sor- 
rows in all its mighty grasp. 

“I’ll look you up in London,” he said to the Depping- 
hams. “Remember, the real trial is yet to come. Good- 
bye, Browne. Good-bye, all! You may come again 
another day !” 

The launch slipped away from the pier. He and Bowles 
stood there, side by side, pale-faced but smiling, waving 
their handkerchiefs. He felt that Genevra was still look- 
ing into his eyes, even when the launch crept up under 
the walls of the distant ship. 

Slowly the great vessel got under way. The American 
cruiser was already low on the horizon. There was a 
single shot from the King's Own: a reverberating fare- 
well ! 

Hollingsworth Chase turned away at last. There were 
tears in his eyes and there were tears in those of Mr. 
Bowles. 

“Bowles,” said he, “it’s a rotten shame they didn’t think 
to say good-bye to old man Skaggs. He’s in the 
grave with us.” 


same 



“He felt that Genevra was still looking into his 









eyes 




/ 




/> 

















CHAPTER XXXV 


A TOAST TO THE PAST 

The middle of June found the Deppinghams leaving 
London once more, but this time not on a voyage into 
the mysterious South Seas. They no longer were inter- 
ested in the island of Japat, except as a reminiscence, nor 
were they concerned in the vagaries of Taswell Skaggs’s 
will. 

The estate was settled — closed! 

Mr. Saunders was mentioned nowadays only in narra- 
tive form, and but rarely in that way. True, they had 
promised to visit the little place in Hammersmith if they 
happened to be passing by, and they had graciously ad- 
mitted that it would give them much pleasure to meet 
his good mother. 

Two months have passed since the Deppinghams de- 
parted from Japat, “for good and all.” Many events 
have come to pass since that memorable day, not the least 
of which was the exchanging of £500,000 sterling, less 
attorneys’ and executors’ fees. To be perfectly explicit 
and as brief as possible, Lady Deppingham and Robert 
Browne divided that amount of money and passed into 
legal history as the “late claimants to the Estate of Tas- 
well Skaggs.” 

It was Sir John Brodney’s enterprise. He saw the 
way out of the difficulty and he acted as pathfinder to 
the other and less perceiving counsellors, all of whom 
had looked forward to an endless controversy. 

The business of the Japat Company and all that it 
entailed was transferred by agreement to a syndicate 
of Jews ! 

Never before was there such a stupendous deal in 
futures. 


340 


THE MAN FROM RRODNEY’S 


Soon after the arrival in England of the two claimants, 
it became known that the syndicate was casting longing 
eyes upon the far-away garden of rubies and sapphires. 
There was no hope of escape from a long, bitter contest 
in the courts. Sir John perhaps saw that there was a 
possible chance to break the will of the testator; he was 
an old man and he would hardly live long enough to fight 
the case to the end. In the interregnum, his clients, the 
industrious islanders, would be slaving themselves into 
a hale old age and a subsequently unhallowed grave, none 
the wiser and none the richer than when the contest be- 
gan, except for the proportionately insignificant share 
that was theirs by right of original possession. Sir 
John took it upon himself to settle the matter while his 
clients were still in a condition to appreciate the results. 
He proposed a compromise. 

It was not so much a question of jurisprudence, he ar- 
gued, as it was a matter of self-protection for all sides 
to the controversy — more particularly that side which as- 
sembled the inhabitants of Japat. 

And so it came to pass that the Jews, after modifying 
some twenty or thirty propositions of their own, ulti- 
mately assumed the credit of evolving the plan that had 
originated in the resourceful head of Sir John Brodney, 
and affairs were soon brought to a close. 

The grandchildren of the testators were ready to ac- 
cept the best settlement that could be obtained. Theirs 
was a rather forlorn hope, to begin with. When it was 
proposed that Agnes Deppingham and Robert Browne 
should accept £250,000 apiece in lieu of all claims, moral 
or legal, against the estate, they leaped at the chance. 

They had seen but little of each other since landing in 
England, except as they were thrown together at the 
conferences. There was no pretence of intimacy on 
either side ; the shadow of the past was still there to re- 


A TOAST TO THE PAST 


341 


mind them that a skeleton lurked behind and grinned 
spitefully in its obscurity. Lady Agnes went in for 
every diversion imaginable; for a wonder, she dragged 
Deppingham with her on all occasions. It was a most 
unexpected transformation; their friends were puzzled. 
The rumour went about town that she was in love with 
her husband. 

As for Bobby Browne, he was devotion itself to 
Drusilla. They sailed for New York within three days 
after the settlement was effected, ignoring the entice- 
ments of a London season — which could not have mat- 
tered much to them, however, as Drusilla emphatically re- 
fused to wear the sort of gowns that Englishwomen wear 
when they sit in the stalls. Besides, she preferred the 
Boston dressmakers. The Brownes were rich. He could 
now become a fashionable specialist. They were worth 
nearly a million and a quarter in American dollars. 
Moreover, they, as well as the Deppinghams, were the 
possessors of rubies and sapphires that had been thrust 
upon them by supplicating adversaries in the hour of de- 
parture — gems that might have bought a dozen wives in 
the capitals of Persia ; perhaps a score in the mountains 
where the Kurds are cheaper. The Brownes naturally 
were eager to get back to Boston. They now had noth- 
ing in common with Taswell Skaggs ; Skaggs is not a 
pretty name. 

Mr. Britt afterward spent three weeks of incessant 
travel on the continent and an additional seven days at 
sea. In Baden-Baden he happened upon Lord and Lady 
Deppingham. It will be recalled that in Japat they had 
always professed an unholy aversion for Mr. Britt. Is 
it cause for wonder then that they declined his invitation 
to dine in Baden-Baden? He even proposed to invite 
their entire party, which included a few dukes and 
duchesses who were leisurely on their way to attend the 


342 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 

long-talked-of nuptials in Thorberg at the end of 
June. 

The Syndicate, after buying off the hereditary forces, 
assumed a half interest in the Japat Company’s business ; 
the islanders controlled the remaining half. The mines 
were to be operated under the management of the Jews 
and eight hours were to constitute a day’s work. The 
personal estate passed into the hands of the islanders, 
from whom Skaggs had appropriated it in conjunction 
with John Wyckholme. All in all, it seemed a fair settle- 
ment of the difficulty. The Jews paid something like 
£2,000,000 sterling to the islanders in consideration of 
a twenty years’ grant. Their experts had examined the 
property before the death of Mr. Skaggs ; they were not 
investing blindly in the great undertaking. 

Mr. Levistein, the president of the combine, after a long 
talk with Lord Deppingham, expressed the belief that the 
chateau could be turned into a money-making hotel if 
properly advertised — outside of the island. Depping- 
ham admitted, that if he kept the prices up, there was 
no reason in the world why the better class of Jews 
should not flock there for the winter. 

Before the end of June, representatives of the combine, 
attended by officers of the court, a small army of clerks, 
a half dozen lawyers and two capable men from the office 
of Sir John Brodney, set sail for Japat, provided with 
the power and the means to effect the transfer agreed 
upon in the compromise. 

In Vienna the Deppinghams were joined by the Duchess 
of N , the Marchioness of B and other fashion- 

ables. In a week all of them would be in the Castle at 
Thorberg, for the ceremony that now occupied the atten- 
tion of social and royal Europe. 

“And to think,” said the Duchess, “she might have died 
happily on that miserable island. I am sure we did all 


A TOAST TO THE PAST 


343 


we could to bring it about by steaming away from the 
place with the plague chasing after us. Dear me, how 
diabolically those wretches lied to the Marquess. 
They said that every one in the chateau was dead, 
Lady Deppingham — and buried, if I am not mis- 
taken.” 

The party was dining with one of the Prince Lichten- 
steins in the Hotel Bristol after a drive in the Haupt- 
Allee. 

“My dog, I think, was the only one of us who died, 
Duchess,” said Lady Agnes airily. “And he was buried. 
They were that near to the truth.” 

“It would be much better for poor Genevra if she were 
to be buried instead of married next week,” lamented the 
Duchess. 

“My dear, how ridiculous. She isn’t dead yet, by any 
manner of means. Why bury her? She’s got plenty of 
life left in her, as Karl Brabetz will learn before long.” 
Thus spoke the far-sighted Marchioness, aunt of the 
bride-to-be. “It’s terribly gruesome to speak of burying 
people before they are actually dead.” 

“Other women have married princes and got on very 
well,” said Prince Lichtenstein. 

“Oh, come now, Prince,” put in Lord Deppingham, 
“you know the sort of chap Brabetz is. There are 
princes and princes, by Jove.” 

“He’s positively vile !” exclaimed the Duchess, who 
would not mince words. 

“She’s entering upon a hell of a — I mean a life of hell,” 
exploded the Duke, banging the table with his fist. “That 
fellow Brabetz is the rottenest thing in Europe. He’s 
gone from bad to worse so swiftly that public opinion 
is still months behind him.” 

“Nice way to talk of the groom,” said the host genially. 
“I quite agree with you, however. I cannot understand 


344 


THE MAN FROM BRODMEY’S 


the Grand Duke permitting it to go on — unless, of 
course, it’s too late to interfere.” 

“Poor dear, she’ll never know what it is to be loved and 
cherished,” said the Marchioness dolefully. 

Lord and Lady Deppingham glanced at each other. 
They were thinking of the man who stood on the dock at 
Aratat when the King's Own sailed away. 

“The Grand Duke is probably saying the very thing to 
himself that Brabetz’s associates are saying in public,” 
ventured a young Austrian count. 

“What is that, pray?” 

“That the Prince won’t live more than six months. He’s 
a physical wreck to-day — and a nervous one, too. Take 
my word for it, he will be a creeping, imbecile thing in- 
side of half a year. Locomotor ataxia and all that. It’s 
coming, positively, with a sharp crash.” 

“I’ve heard he has tried to kill that woman in Paris half 
a dozen times,” remarked one of the women, taking it as 
a matter of course that every one knew who she meant 
by “that woman.” As no one even so much as looked 
askance, it is to be presumed that every one knew. 

“She was really responsible for the postponement of 
the wedding in December, I’m told. Of course, I don’t 
know that it is true,” said the Marchioness, wisely quali- 
fying her gossip. “My brother, the Grand Duke, does 
not confide in me.” 

“Oh, I think that story was an exaggeration,” said 
her husband. “Genevra says that he was very ill — 
nervous something or other.” 

“Probably true, too. He’s a wreck. She will be the 
prettiest widow in Europe before Christmas,” said the 
young count. “Unless, of course, any one of the excel- 
lent husbands surrounding me should die,” he added gal- 
lantly. 

“Well, my heart bleeds for her,” said Deppingham. 


A TOAST TO THE PAST 


345 


“She’s going into it with her eyes open,” said the 
Prince. “It isn’t as if she hadn’t been told. She could 
see for herself. She knows there’s the other woman in 
Paris and — Oh, well, why should we make a funeral 
of it? Let’s do our best to be revellers, not mourners. 
She’ll live to fall in love with some other man. They 
always do. Every woman has to love at least once in 
her life — if she lives long enough. Come, come! Is my 
entertainment to develop into a premature wake? Let 
us forget the future of the Princess Genevra and drink 
to her present !” 

“And to her past, if you don’t mind, Prince !” amended 
Lord Deppingham, looking into his wife’s sombre eyes. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


THE TITLE CLEAR 

Two men and a woman stood in the evening glow, look- 
ing out over the tranquil sea that crept up and licked the 
foot of the cliff. At their back rose the thick, tropical 
forest; at its edge and on the nape of the cliff stood a 
bungalow, fresh from the hands of a hundred willing 
toilsmen. Below, on their right, lay the gaudy village, 
lolling in the heat of the summer’s day. Far off to the 
north, across the lowlands and beyond the sweep of un- 
dulating and ever-lengthening hills, could be seen a 
great, reddish structure, its gables and towers fusing with 
the sombre shades of the mountain against which they 
seemed to lean. 

It was September. Five months had passed since the 
King's Own steamed away from the harbour of Aratat. 
The new dispensation was in full effect. During the 
long, sickening weeks that preceded the coming of the 
Syndicate, Hollingsworth Chase toiled faithfully, 
resolutely for the restoration of order and system among 
the demoralised people of Japat. 

The first few weeks of rehabilitation were hard ones: 
the islanders were ready to accede to everything he pro- 
posed, but their submissiveness was due in no small meas- 
ure to the respect they entertained for his almost super- 
natural powers. In course of time this feeling was more 
or less dissipated and a condition of true confidence took 
its place. The lawless element — including the misguided 
husbands whose jealousy had been so skilfully worked 
upon by Rasula and Jacob von Blitz — this element, 
greatly in the minority, subsided into a lackadaisical, 
law-abiding activity, with little prospect of again at- 


THE TITLE CLEAR 347 

tempting to exercise themselves in another direction. 
Murder had gone out of their hearts. 

Eager hands set to work to construct a suitable home 
for the tall arbiter. He chose a position on the point 
that ran out into the sea beyond the town. It was this 
point which the yacht was rounding on that memo- 
rable day wnen he and one other had watched it from the 
gallery, stirred by emotions they were never to forget. 
Besides, the cliff on which the new bungalow stood repre- 
sented the extreme western extremity of the island and 
therefore was nearest of all Japat to civilisation and — 
Genevra. 

Conditions in Aratat were not much changed from 
what they had been prior to the event of the legatory in- 
vaders. The mines were in full operation; the bank was 
being conducted as of yore ; the people were happy and 
confident; the town was fattening on its own flesh; the 
sun was as merciless and the moon as gentle as in the 
days of old. 

The American bar changed hands with the arrival of 
the new forces from the Occident; the Jews and the Eng- 
lish clerks, the surveyors and the engineers, the solicitors 
and the agents, were now domiciled in “headquarters.” 
Chase turned over the “bar” when he retired from active 
service under Sir John Brodney. With the transfer of 
the company’s business his work was finished. Two 
young men from Sir John’s were now settled in Aratat 
as legal advisers to the islanders, Chase having declined 
to serve longer in that capacity. 

He was now waiting for the steamer which was to 
take him to Cape Town on his way to England — and 
home. 

The chateau was closed and in the hands of a small army 
of caretakers. The three widows of Jacob von Blitz were 
now married to separate and distinct husbands, all of 


348 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


whom retained their places as heads of departments at 
the chateau, proving that courtship had not been con- 
fined to the white people during the closing days of the 

siege. 

The head of the bank was Oscar Arnheimer, Mr. Bowles 
having been deposed because his methods were even more 
obsolete than his coat of armour. Selim disposed of his 
lawful interest in the corporation to Ben Ali, the new 
Cadi, and was waiting to accompany his master to Amer- 
ica. It may be well to add that the deal did not include 
the transfer of Neenah. She was not for sale, said 
Selim to Ben Ali. 

It was of Mr. Bowles that the three persons were talking 
as they stood in the evening glow. 

“Yes, Selim,” said the tall man in flannels, “he’s a sort 
of old dog Tray — ever faithful but not the right kind. 
You don’t happen to know anything of old dog Tray, 
do you? No? I thought not. Nor you, Neenah? 
Well, he was ” 

“Was he the one who was poisoned at the chateau, excel- 
lency?” asked Neenah timidly. 

“No, my dear,” he replied soberly. “If I remember 
my history, he died in the seventeenth century or there- 
abouts. It’s really of no consequence, however. Any 
good, faithful dog will serve my purpose. What I want 
to impress upon you is this : it is most difficult for a faith- 
ful old dog to survive a change of masters. It isn’t hu- 
man nature — or dog nature, either. I’m glad that you 
are convinced, Neenah — but please don’t tell Sahib 
Bowles that he is a dog.” 

“Oh, no, excellency!” she cried earnestly. 

“She is very close-mouthed, sahib,” added Selim, with 
conviction. 

“We’ll take Bowles to England with us next week,” 
went on Chase dreamily. “We’ll leave Japat to take 


THE TITLE CLEAR 


349 


care of itself. I don’t know which it is in most danger 
of, seismic or Semitic disturbances.” 

He lighted a fresh cigarette, tenderly fingering it be- 
fore applying the match. 

“I’ll smoke one of hers to-night, Selim. See! I keep 
them apart from the others, in this little gold case. I 
smoke them only when I am thinking. Now, run in and 
tell Mr. Bowles that I said he was a Tray. I want to be 
alone.” 

They left him and he threw himself upon the green 
sod, his back to a tree, his face toward the distant 
chateau. Hours afterward the faithful Selim came out 
to tell him that it was bedtime. He found his master 
still sitting there, looking across the moonlit flat in the 
direction of a place in the hills where once he had dwelt 
in marble halls. 

“Selim,” he said, arising and laying his hand upon his 
servant’s shoulder, his voice unsteady with finality, “I 
have decided, after all, to go to Paris ! We will live there, 
Selim. Do you understand?” with strange fierceness, a 
great exultation mastering him. “We are to live in 
Paris !” 

To himself, all that night, he was saying : “I must see 
her again — I shall see her !” 

A thousand times he had read and re-read the letter that 
Lady Deppingham had written to him just before the 
ceremony in the cathedral at Thorberg. He knew every 
word that it contained; he could read it in the dark. 
She had said that Genevra was going into a hell that no 
hereafter could surpass in horrors ! And that was ages 
ago, it seemed to him. Genevra had been a wife for 
nearly three months — the wife of a man she loathed; she 
was calling in her heart for him to come to her; she was 
suffering in that unspeakable hell. All this he had come 
to feel and shudder over in his unspeakable loneliness. 


350 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


He would go to her! There could be no wrong in 
loving her, in being near her, in standing by her in those 
hours of desperation. 

A copy of a London newspaper, stuffed away in the 
recesses of his trunk, dated June 29th, had come to him 
by post. It contained the telegraphic details of the 
brilliant wedding in Thorberg. He had read the names 
of the guests over and over again with a bitterness that 
knew no bounds. Those very names proved to him that 
her world was not his, nor ever could be. Every royal 
family in Europe was represented; the list of noble 
names seemed endless to him — the flower of the world’s 
aristocracy. How he hated them! 

The next morning Selim aroused him from his fitful 
sleep, bringing the news that a strange vessel had arrived 
off Aratat. Chase sprang out of bed, possessed of the 
wild hope that the opportunity to leave the island had 
come sooner than he had expected. He rushed out upon 
his veranda, overlooking the little harbour. 

A long, white, graceful craft was lying in the harbour. 
It was in so close to the pier that he had no choice but 
to recognise it as a vessel of light draft. He stared 
long and intently at the trim craft. 

“Can I be dreaming?” he muttered, passing his hand 
over his eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Selim! Is it really 
there?” Then he uttered a loud cry of joy and started 
off down the slope with the speed of a race horse, shout- 
ing in the frenzy of an uncontrollable glee. 

It was the Marquess of B ’s white and blue yacht ! 

* * * * * 

Three weeks later, Hollingsworth Chase stepped from 
the deck of the yacht to the pier in Marseilles ; the next 
day he was in Paris, attended by the bewildered and al- 
most useless Selim. An old and valued friend, a cam- 


THE TITLE CLEAR 


351 


paigner of the war-time days, met him at the Gare de 
Lyon in response to a telegram. 

“I’ll tell you the whole story of Japat, Arch, but not 
until to-morrow,” Chase said to him as they drove toward 
the Ritz. “I arrived yesterday on the Marquess of 

B ’s yacht — the Cricket. Do you know him? Of 

course you do. Everybody does. The Cricket was 
cruising down my way and picked me up — Bowles and 
me. The captain came a bit out of his way to call at 
Aratat, but he had orders of some sort from the Mar- 
quess, by cable, I fancy, to stop off for me.” 

He did not regard it as necessary to tell his correspon- 
dent friend that the Cricket had sailed from Marseilles 
with but one port in view — Aratat. He did not tell him 
that the Cricket had come with a message to him and that 
he was answering it in person, as it was intended that 
he should — a message written six weeks before his arrival 
in France. There were many things that Chase did not 
explain to Archibald James. 

“You’re looking fine, Chase, old man. Did you a lot 
of good out there. You’re as brown as that Arab in the 
taximetre back there. By Jove, old man, that Persian 
girl is ripping. You say she’s his wife? She’s — ” 
Chase broke in upon this far from original estimate of 
the picturesque Neenah. 

“I say, Arch, there’s something I want to know be- 
fore I go to the Marquess’s this evening. I’m due there 
with my thanks. He lives in the Boulevard St. Germain 
— I’ve got the number all right. Is one likely to find 
the house full of swells? I’m a bit of a savage just now 
and I’m correspondingly timid.” 

His friend stared at him for a moment. 

“I can save you the trouble of going to the Marquess,” 
he said. “He and the Marchioness are in London at 
present. Left Paris a month ago.” 


352 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


“What? The house is closed?” in deep anxiety. 

“I think not. Servants are all there, I daresay. Their 
place adjoins the Brabetz palace. The Princess is his 
niece, you know.” 

“You say the Brabetz palace is next door?” demanded 
Chase, steadying his voice with an effort. 

“Yes — the old Flaurebert mansion. The Princess was 
to have been the social sensation of Paris this year. She’s 
a wonderful beauty, you know.” 

“Was to have been?” 

“She married that rotten Brabetz last June — but, of 
course, you never heard of it out there in what’s-the- 
name-of-the-place. You may have heard of his murder, 
however. His mistress shot him in Brussels ” 

“Great God, man!” gasped Chase, clutching his arm 
in a grip of iron. 

“The devil, Chase !” cried the other, amazed. “What’s 
the matter?” 

“He’s dead ? Murdered ? How — when ? Tell me about 
it,” cried Chase, his agitation so great that James looked 
at him in wonder. 

“ ’Gad, you seem to be interested !” 

“I am! Where is she — I mean the Princess? And the 
other woman ?” 

“Cool off, old man. People are staring at you. It’s 
not a long story. Brabetz was shot three weeks ago at 
a hotel in Brussels. He’d been living there for two 
months, more or less, with the woman. In fact, he left 
Paris almost immediately after he was married to the 
Princess Genevra. The gossip is that she wouldn’t live 
with him. She’d found out what sort of a dog he was. 
They didn’t have a honeymoon and they didn’t attempt 
a bridal tour. Somehow, they kept the scandal out of 
the papers. Well, he hiked out of Paris at the end of a 
week, just before the 14th. The police had asked 


THE TITLE CLEAR 


353 


the woman to leave town. He followed. Dope fiend, 
they say. The bride went into seclusion at once. She’s 
never to be seen anywhere. The woman shot him through 
the head and then took a fine dose of poison. They 
tried to save her life, but couldn’t. It was a ripping news 

story. The prominence of the ” 

“This was a month ago?” demanded Chase, trying to 
fix something in his mind. “Then it was after the yacht 
left Marseilles with orders to pick me up at Aratat.” 

“What are you talking about? Sure it was, if the 
yacht left Marseilles six weeks ago. What’s that got 
to do with it?” 

“Nothing. Don’t mind me, Arch. I’m a bit upset.” 
“There was talk of a divorce almost before the wedding 
bells ceased ringing. The Grand Duke got his eyes 
opened when it was too late. He repented of the mar- 
riage. The Princess was obliged to live in Paris for a 
certain length of time before applying to the courts 
for freedom. ’Gad, I’ll stake my head she’s happy these 
days !” 

Chase was silent for a long time. He was quite cool 
and composed when at last he turned to his friend. 

“Arch, do me a great favour. Look out for Selim and 
Neenah. Take ’em to the hotel and see that they get 
settled. I’ll join you this evening. Don’t ask questions, 
but put me down here. I’ll take another cab. There’s 
a good fellow. I’ll explain soon. I’m — I’m going some- 
where and I’m in a hurry.” 

# * * * * 

The voiture drew up before the historic old palace in the 
Boulevard St. Germain. Chase’s heart was beating furi- 
ously as he stepped to the curb. The cocker leaned for- 
ward for instructions. His fare hesitated for a moment, 
swayed by a momentary indecision. 

“ Attendre ” he said finally. The driver adjusted his 


354 


THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S 


register and settled back to wait. Then Chase mounted 
the steps and lifted the knocker with trembling fingers. 
He was dizzy with eagerness, cold with uncertainty. 

She had asked him to come to her — but conditions were 
not the same as when she sent the compelling message. 
There had come into her life a vital break, a change 
that altered everything. What was it to mean to 
him ? 

He stood a moment later in the salon of the old Flaure- 
bert palace, vaguely conscious that the room was dark- 
ened by the drawn blinds, and that it was cool and sweet 
to his senses. He knew that she was coming down the 
broad hallway — he could hear the rustle of her gown. 
Inconsequently he was wondering whether she would be 
dressed in black. Then, to his humiliation, he remem- 
bered that he was wearing uncouth, travel-soiled gar- 
ments. 

She was dressed in white — a house gown, simple and 
alluring. There was no suggestion of the coronet, no 
shadow of grief in her manner as she came swiftly toward 
him, her hands extended, a glad light in her eyes. 

The tall man, voiceless with emotion, clasped her hands 
in his and looked down into the smiling, rapturous face. 

“You came!” she said, almost in a whisper. 

“Yes. I could not have stayed away. I have just 
heard that you — you are free. You must not expect 
me to offer condolences. It would be sheer hypocrisy. I 
am glad — God, I am glad! You sent for me — you sent 
the yacht, Genevra, before — before you were free. I 
came, knowing that you belonged to another. I find you 
the same as when I knew you first — when I held you in 
my arms and heard you say that you loved me. You do 
not grieve — you do not mourn. You are the same— my 
Genevra — the same that I have dreamed of and suffered 
for all these months. Something tells me that you have 


THE TITLE CLEAR 


355 


descended to my plane. I will not kiss you, Genevra, 
until you have promised to become my wife.” 

She had not taken her eyes from his white, intense face 
during this long summing-up. 

“Hollingsworth, I cannot, I will not blame you for 
thinking ill of me,” she said. “Have I fallen in your 
eyes? I wanted you to be near me. I wanted you to 
know that when the courts freed me from that man that 
I would be ready and happy to come to you as your 
wife. I am not in mourning to-day, you see. I knew 
you were coming. As God is my witness, I have no hus- 
band to mourn for. He was nothing to me. I want you 
for my husband, dearest. It was what I meant when I 
sent out there for you — that, and nothing else.” 


THE END 




































































































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